


Five Dollars

by MagicalRainbowUnicornPuke, rememberflowers



Series: Amounts Of Shklance [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Controlling Behavior, Degrading Talk, Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of past abuse, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Vomiting, and not in the sexy way oh ho ho, ew lancelot, except healthy lancelot is pure, just warning ya, klanro, klanro is so nasty sounding, minimal lancelot action, past mental abuse, shklance - Freeform, wow this is one trainwreck of a shklance fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 07:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12294558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalRainbowUnicornPuke/pseuds/MagicalRainbowUnicornPuke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberflowers/pseuds/rememberflowers
Summary: After getting dumped by his mentally abusive ex-boyfriend in a McDonalds, Lance goes to live with two boyfriends, Shiro and Keith, for a short time, until he can get back up on his feet again.What he doesn't expect is to end up liking both of them, at the same time. Oh, crap.And those damn five dollars.





	1. McDonalds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Sorry - I'm a piece of trash and will willingly start on two new stories but not update old stories, oh well. I apologize. Have this shklance. :)
> 
>  
> 
> trigger warning for a minor abusive setting. i'm going to be updating the tags as i go along so just keep an eye out!

  It hadn't been the first thing Keith expected to see when he walked into the McDonalds.

   He wasn't stupid, and he was far from sheltered.  He knew that there were plenty of people who were abused by their significant other, whether it be physically or verbally. He knew.

   But he'd never seen it actually take place. Of course he had heard stories and known people who were domestically abused, but never actually witnessed it firsthand, until today. 

   The McDonalds was bright and cheery, contrasting with the darker colors of the night outdoors. It was late, really late at night. Keith had just finished a huge paper for one of his college classes, and insisted that he and his boyfriend, Shiro, get ice cream to celebrate.

   And like a good, exasperated boyfriend, Shiro obliged. That's how they ended up at McDonalds, probably hours past midnight, waiting in line between two others who had apparently decided on a late-night snack as well.

   The two men had arrived probably seconds before they did, and Keith found it amusing that him and Shiro weren't the only ones who were out here. One was tall, with long, white hair that was tied back into a neat ponytail. Not a strand was out of place, and even his clothes looked wrinkle-free. His pale face was expressionless, and his mouth was drawn in a tight line. He was the definition of immaculate, and Keith had found it slightly odd that someone who looked like he did was at a McDonalds.

   The other was a smaller man, with tan skin and dark, messy hair. Freckles dotted his face and framed his blue eyes. He was wearing a faded blue t-shirt and wrinkled shorts that Keith had been sure had a few holes in them. The look was completed with scuffed-up black flipflops that were practicallly falling apart. This was the type of person that Keith had expected to see this late.

   The two seemed like they were polar opposites, which amused Keith as much as it confused him. The smaller one was holding hands with the other, and he was curled slightly in on himself. It reminded Keith of a scared cat he had seen once in an ally - taking that same exact demeanor.

   The cashier had walked up and given a customary greeting, finishing with a question on their order. There were circles under her eyes and she looked dead on her feet. Keith wondered how long she had been working, it had to be three o'clock at least. 

   "A cheeseburger with fries and a coke," the white-haired man said. His voice reminded Keith of poisoned honey. Dripping and sweet but with an underlying sense of danger. 

   "And for you?" The lady asked, turning to the smaller boy. He had stared at her with what Keith could only describe as fear, then glanced up towards the white-haired man hopefully. 

   "Co-could I get something too? I'll pay." He asked, and Keith nearly melted at the sound of his voice. It was smooth and sweet, with just a hint of an accent. Spanish? Keith hadn't been sure. 

   The white-haired looked down at the smaller man, and Keith had realized how weird this situation was. Why was the smaller man asking his boyfriend (Keith was guessing, he didn't see a ring and they _were_ holding hands) for permission to get something? He was even offering to pay himself (though it was only about five dollars for a decent meal, the white-haired man could decide _not_ to be an ass and buy him something). And why did he look so scared? _Something isn't right_ , he had thought, gut twisting.

   And he was right, because the white-haired man had looked down at this man with a look of utter contempt and uttered the word _no_. The man's face had fallen and he looked away.

   Keith had felt Shiro tense beside him, having witnessed the encounter. He could tell that Shiro was about to say something, just waiting for the opportunity. Waiting to see if this man was actually serious.

   "Okay..." the lady said, clearly uncomfortable. She punched in the order and took the man's offered card. "Can I get a name for the order?" 

   "Lotor," the white-haired man said, a grin spreading across his face, revealing blinding-white teeth that were the color of his hair. But to Keith it didn't look like a real smile, more like an evil smile. _Okay Keith_ , he thought, _dial it back. You're horrible at reading people anyway._

   By this point it had been clear that this "Lotor" character (what type of name was that anyway?) was not going to be buying the smaller man any food. Shiro had stepped forward and tapped Lotor on the shoulder gently. Lotor had turned around, a questioning look on his face. "Yes?"

   "I'm happy to buy your partner here something if you won't let him get anything," Shiro had said cooly, an innocent smile on his face. He looked calm, but Keith had known that it wasn't real. It was fake, strained. Underneath Shiro was probably as mad as Keith was.

   Lotor grinned again, and Keith had fought the urge not to punch the smile off his face. "No, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that. You see, Lance is on punishment today. He's not allowed to eat."

   Now Keith was _really_ fighting that urge not to punch him. "Not allowed to eat?" He had seethed, the flames of his rage threatening to consume him. Lotor's smug grin remained. " _Not allowed to eat?_ Do you know how messed up that is? Everyone needs to eat. What the _fu_ -"

   "Keith," Shiro admonished, calmly but firmly. His boyfriend's poker face remained, but Keith had seen the rage sparking in his gray eyes. "That's not right, and I hope you're kidding. I can call the police on you."

   The smirk on Lotor's face had fallen for a short, split-second. In that moment the smaller man, _Lance_ , had whimpered. When Keith looked down, he saw that Lotor had the man's hand in a grip so tight that Lance's tan skin had turned white.

   "Stop hurting him!" Keith had growled, stepping forward.  A terribly satisfying image of him putting Lotor in a choke hold in throwing him to the ground had flashed through his head. He had moved forward and grabbed Lotor by the collar. 

   The rest had been a blur. He remembered Shiro pulling Keith off of Lotor, who was fighting back. He remembered Lance crying out and Lotor shoving him to the ground. The lady had gotten her phone out and was starting to dial 911, but Shiro had stopped her. 

   Mostly, he just remembered anger and rage and Lotor leaving the resturant, leaving a softly sobbing Lance.

   Which left him where he was now, with orders from Shiro to get Lance a supersized cheeseburger and fries and a drink while his boyfriend tried to console the crying man.

   The order came out in less than ten seconds, and Keith walked over to the booth that Shiro and Lance were at. Shiro had managed to calm him down to the point of occasional sniffling, and Keith felt a twinge of pride at the fact that his boyfriend was so good with people.

   "Your name's Lance, right?" Keith asked as he set the tray down in front of the brown-haired man. Lance nodded, glancing down at the food hesitantly.

   "Eat," Shiro said, giving a warm smile, "don't worry, it's all yours."

   Lance threw Shiro a grateful look, and immediately dug into his food. Keith tried not to dwell on how skinny he looked and _gosh_ , how long had it been since the guy had eaten an actual meal? 

   And what were they going to do with him? They couldn't throw him out on the streets, they'd never forgive themselves. Keith decided to just ask.

   "Do you have somewhere to stay, or did you live with that asswipe?" Keith asked bluntly. While Shiro was a fan of gentle condolences and slowly working through issues, Keith didn't take such precautions. It was easier to just say what you thought without people worrying about any double-meanings. Sometimes he came across as rude, but thankfully Shiro had just accepted it as part of him.

   Lance paused mid-chew. He looked up at Keith, then quickly averted his gaze. It didn't seem like it was something he really wanted to talk about. Nonetheless he swallowed his food and opened his mouth to speak. "I lived with him," he said quietly, eyes glued to the table. "My stuff is still over at his apartment." 

   "You're going to break up with him, right?" Keith asked, resting his face on his arm. He missed the glare that Shiro shot him, but not the hurt look in Lance's eyes.

   "Lotor broke up with Lance when he left," Shiro said, a warning tone to his voice. Keith immediately kicked himself. He hadn't been listening to anything that Lotor had been saying during the fight, too overcome with rage to do anything but envision the man lying unconscious on the floor. Maybe being blunt the entire time wasn't the best path to take.

   "Oh," Keith muttered, looking away. "Sorry."

   Lance shrugged, stuffing a fry in his mouth. "It's fine. I kind of wanted it to end the entire time, you know? But I didn't really think of it as abuse. I mean, he never hit me." 

   The way Lance said the last two sentences made Keith think that he still didn't think of it as abuse. A quick glance towards Shiro told him that the older man had come to the same conclusion.

   Shiro cleared his throat softly. "If you have nowhere to go, you can always stay with us in our apartment. We have a spare bedroom and are always glad for company."

   Lance's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. "Oh, no. No. That's fine. I can't intrude, no. You guys have already been so nice - speaking of which..." the blue-eyed man started digging in his pocket, pulling out a rather crumpled five-dollar bill. He thrust it forward and into Keith's hands. "Here. For the meal. Thank you."

   Keith snorted and handed it back. "Are you serious right now? No. It was five dollars, dude. You can have it back."

   "And we don't mind you staying in our apartment for a bit," Shiro added kindly. "We're always happy to help, and if we can help you get put back together then it's no problem at all."

   Lance stared at the bill in front of him, an indecipherable look on his face. "But you guys don't have to do this," he whispered softly, and Keith wanted to do nothing more than lean over and give him a hug. "It's fine."

   "We insist upon it," Shiro said warmly, resting an arm around the brown-haired man's shoulder and squeezing comfortingly. "We'll feel terrible if you don't come and stay with us." 

   Keith nodded his agreement. "Yeah, don't worry man. We're cool." 

   Lance kept his eyes glued to the table, the rest of his fries abandoned. "Okay," he finally agreed, lifting his head to look at Shiro. "But take the money, as you said, it's just five dollars." Lance threw Keith's words right back at him, and there was a hint of smugness in the way that he pushed the five-dollar bill back across the table. 

   Keith pursed his lips and took the money. "Just this once, you're lucky." He muttered, pocketing the money. He would give it back to Lance later, somehow. It was, after all, just five dollars.

   "It's settled then!" Shiro exclaimed, the excitement in his voice so clear that it reminded Keith of a young boy. Shiro was such a puppy sometimes, and it was adorable. "When you're done with those fries, we can leave. Our apartment is only five minutes away."

   Lance smiled, and it was tired and somewhat strained but it was a smile, and Keith was so happy to see it. "Okay, cool. Thank you, really. Thank you."

   "It's no problem at all."


	2. Guest Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot dang I'm surprised this got as much feedback as it did. Pleasantly surprised. 
> 
> Take this chapter and enjoy!
> 
> tw for talk about an abusive setting and general anxiety

   While the apartment was warm and welcoming, it was almost hilarious how much it screamed "college kid". Empty ramen cups were scattered across the kitchen counter, dirty dishes piled to the high heavens in the sink, and there was a small table that was cluttered with school books. Lance was surprised, because Shiro didn't seem like the type to let something get in this condition. Keith? Sure. But not Shiro. Who knows, though. He didn't really know them that well.

   Shiro caught Lance staring, and smiled. "This was my free week on cleaning," he snorted, gesturing towards the mess. "But I don't think I can afford to take any more free weeks." 

   Lance smiled back, a faint heat rising to his cheeks. He shouldn't stare - it was rude, and they were already letting him stay this night. He wasn't going to push this small amount of luck that he had.

   He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. _Should I take my shoes off, leave them at the door? But what if they think I'm getting too comfortable? Should I ask where the guest room is? No, that's too pushy._

   So he stood there, mouth shut and heart racing. 

   Thankfully, from his place in the kitchen, Keith noticed his dilemma, and immediately appeared at his side. "Here, I'll guide you to the guestroom. You can leave your shoes at the door. You're not allergic to cats, right?"

   Lance shook his head as he kicked off his flip-flops, leaving them at the door. "No I'm not allergic. There are cats?" He asked, following Keith. 

   Keith smiled, and a look of happiness seemed to wash over his face. "Yep! Shiro and I both have one. Mine's named Red - don't bother me about the uncreative name, I know - and she's literally the light of my life."

   Lance figured that cats was a safe enough subject to talk about, so he decided to stick to it like glue. "What does she look like? And what's Shiro's cat's name?"

   Lance swore he could literally see light radiating off of Keith as he talked about Red. "She's ginger and really fluffy, but she's also a real pain in the butt sometimes. She doesn't like most people; she hated Shiro for the longest time. And Shiro's cat is a black-and-white tuxedo shorthair. I wanted him to name her Black, because matching names, you know? But he didn't think it was interesting enough, blah blah blah originality, so her name is Kuro." 

   Keith opened the door to the guest room and flicked on the light, still rambling about the cats. "And I still think her name should have been Black, but you know, whatever. I wish you could see them, but they're probably hiding. Here's your room, by the way."

   Lance nodded gratefully. "Thank you! And I love hearing about cats - I used to have one. Her name was Mila."

   "What happened to her?"

   Immediately Lance regretted ever mentioning Mila. He had meant for it to be a nostalgic relatable memory, to ignore the part on why he no longer had her. 

   Of course, it had been Lotor. Mila didn't get along with his own cat when Lance moved in with him, so Lotor had immediately booted the pretty Russian Blue. Lance had been upset for the longest time, too nervous to say anything to Lotor about it. 

   "I... uh," Lance mumbled unintelligably, eyes glued to the floor. He could feel Keith's gaze on him, piercing and silent. "It's not something I want to talk about," Lance finished lamely, fiddling with his fingers.

   Keith nodded as if he understood. "I get that. I'm sorry, man." 

   Lance shrugged, as if it was no big deal. He missed Mila, of course, but time had mostly healed that wound. But thinking about Mila brought up Lotor, and thinking about Lotor made him think about everything that had ever happened, and Lance just preferred not to think about that. Because time had definitely not healed _that_ wound yet. Which got Lance thinking, would it ever?

   An awkward silence fell over the two, and Lance continued playing with his fingers. It was an old habit of his when he was stressed or nervous. "So, uh..." he started, trailing off. He had nothing else to talk about, what was he doing? 

   Keith coughed. "I'll leave you to your room then. The bathroom's across the hall. Uh, tomorrow we can get your stuff from that bastard's apartment, if you'd like." 

   Lance gave a meek thumbs-up, watching as Keith walked away. Shiro had departed early-on and was probably already asleep. When he was sure the mullet-haired man was gone, he softly shut the door and let out a sigh. 

   What had he come to, so unable to help himself that he had to freeload off of strangers? He didn't even have a job - he was downright pathetic. In the McClain family, having a job was a big deal. You had to be able to support yourself, but more importantly, your family. Family. Lance pushed away that thought, unwilling to dwell on it.

   Lotor had insisted that Lance stay with him, told him that as long as he followed the rules, he would never have to worry. He had threatened leaving him if Lance didn't comply. And _gosh_ , it had been so _messed up_. 

   Lance had to admit, Lotor was mental and horrible and sadistic, but he was smart. He had expertly cut off his ties to everyone he ever knew, including trivial things such as _co-workers_ and _pets_ , so that if he ever left, he would have no choice but to crawl back. 

   Lance sat down on the bed and stared at his feet, lost in his thoughts. He didn't quite know how to sort out his emotions. He hated Lotor, so much. For everything he did. But a small part of him missed Lotor, whispered to him that no one would ever love him like Lotor did. 

    _Lotor didn't even love you_. Lance berated himself. He knew that. He knew that. _Maybe not, but he stayed with me long enough._

   It was a battle, one he'd been fighting for the longest time, one he was unfortunately very familiar with. His rational thinking versus his warped, Lotor-induced thinking. 

   He groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut. " _Shut up_ ," he whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!" 

   The last word came out a bit louder than intended, and he held his breath, hoping to God that nobody had heard. The very last thing he needed was to bother the people taking him in when they were probably getting some much-needed rest.

   Thankfully, there were no movements outside his door, and he figured they hadn't heard. He lay down and pulled only the coverlet over himself (he was _not_ going to dirty these people's sheets), then closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

   But for whatever damn reason, sleep wouldn't come. He tossed and he turned for what felt like hours, but he could not get comfortable.

   Finally, he pulled his phone out of the waistband of his underwear (he'd had to keep it hidden from Lotor, and it was as good a hiding place as any), and decided that now was a good time to look for jobs. He had nothing better to do, anyway.

   Lance had, for the longest time, wanted to be an artist. He had achieved digital artist fame, with over 10k followers on various social media platforms. Lotos had found out midway through, though, and forced him to shut his accounts down. Lance had been tempted to reopen them and continue on in secret, but that would have risked Lotor finding out about him still owning a phone, so Lance had decided against it.

   Before Lotor, he was planning to go to college for art. Cal Poly, maybe. But, obviously things happened, and soon his dreams had been dashed. Maybe someday, now that Lotor was gone, he could try and go back.

   But to even think about going to college, he needed money, and having money meant having a job, so he opened up Safari and typed, _jobs southern california_. It was vague and probably wasn't going to get him anywhere, but he had to at least try. 

   Immediately a ton of listings popped up, and Lance braced himself for failure. It was to be expected, especially when you had no idea what you were doing. Which was Lance basically ninety percent of the time.

  He took a deep breath and clicked on the first listing, a job offer just outside of San Luis Obisbo. _Time to go job hunting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is out! Thank you so much for reading, please leave feedback and kudos, they are my fuel <3
> 
> PLEASE HMU ON TUMBLR, IT'S THE SAME USERNAME AS THE ONE HERE EXCEPT IN ALL LOWERCASE <3
> 
> idon'tknowhowtodolinks :)


	3. Bacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A new, fresh chapter, please enjoy and please leave comments and kudos <3 they are the air i breathe
> 
>  
> 
> tw for general anxiety and talk about abusive situations

   When Lance woke up the next morning, his phone was laying dead on his chest. More importantly, though, he had a job.

   Last night, thanks to a website that he couldn't remember the name of, he had been able to look at job offers and send out an application online. And after refreshing his email for a solid hour straight, he had been notified that he had gotten the job.

   Now he was officially a waiter at a hamburger place called Sal's. It was close by - according to his phone's GPS (thank _god_ Shiro and Keith had a guest WiFi, he didn't have service) it was an approximate five-minute walk from here.

   He was starting tomorrow, which excited him but made him nervous all the same. He hadn't had a job since high school - which meant that he had little to no experience. Even then, he had worked at a cruddy McDonalds, behind a counter. Here the atmosphere was a bit different, not to mention the fact that being a waiter was supposedly a harder job than most.

   He sat up and glanced at his dead phone sourly. He didn't have Lotor's charger to steal now - so it would be dead until he got his first paycheck and was able to buy a charger.

   There was so much he needed. Some of it he could get when he went back to Lotor's place to get his stuff - clothes, toiletries, things like that. But things like transportation methods, a job, an apartment, a phone charger; those were harder to come by.

   Keith had mentioned taking him to Lotor's apartment to get his stuff back. Just the thought of seeing his ex-boyfriend sent chills through Lance, making his heart race. He did not want to see Lotor, ever again, in his life. He just wanted to avoid him, avoid the problem, and avoid everything that had ever happened.

   Lance sat up and stretched, a soft groan slipping through his lips as his back cracked. He remade the bed best he could, determined not to leave a messy room after all his hosts had done for him.

   He rubbed his tired eyes and examined the room. It was standard-looking, with a closet in the corner and a small dresser in the other. Next to the bed stood a nightstand. On the nightstand was a clock, a lamp, and a five-dollar bill. 

   After a closer inspection, Lance became sure that that was the dollar bill he'd given Keith last night for the food. It had a small tear in the corner and a blue stain on it, both things Lance remembered his five-dollar bill having (especially because the blue stain had been his doing - he had accidentally marked it with a blue Sharpie).  He sighed and tucked it in his pocket, determined to give it back.

   He glanced at the small digital clock and cursed. _12:13_. It was late, he had slept in. Lotor hated it when Lance slept past nine, and while he knew that these people weren't Lotor and more than likely wouldn't mind, he couldn't help but think that they might be upset with him. _And after all the hospitality they've showed_! Lance stepped out of bed and crept over to the door, slipping out of the guest room and into the bathroom, checking to make sure he was relatively presentable. 

   He could hear faint murmurs in the kitchen, and the smell of something burning was in the air. There must have been a mishap at breakfast, or rather, lunch. Lance washed his face with water best he could - he could already hear his mamá yelling at him for showing himself in front of people with an oily face.

   After he had managed to fix himself up to look halfway decent, he stepped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Keith was sitting at the counter eating a giant plate of what looked to be burnt bacon, and Shiro was gently scolding him while frying up some more.

   "Keith, you can't just burn that much bacon on purpose! It's wasteful," Shiro admonished, and lifted a piece of bacon from the pan with his fork. "See? It's crisp but not burnt, and _everyone_ can enjoy it."

   "Not vegetarians," Keith pointed out, stuffing a piece of burned bacon in his mouth. "Or vegans. Or people who don't like bacon. Or people who don't like soft, sissy bacon, like me." 

   Shiro rolled his eyes. "When I say everyone, I mean sane people, Keith. I'm saying you can't burn three entire packages of bacon because that leaves no bacon for anyone else, because nobody's going to eat that except you."

   Keith lazily stuffed another piece of bacon in his mouth. "That's kind of the point, Shiro," 

   Shiro opened his mouth to continue the bacon lecture, until out of the corner of his eye he saw Lance standing in the hall. Lance had been trying his hardest to suppress his laughter during the entire ordeal, and he had succeeded. 

   "Good afternoon, Lance," Shiro said, turning around and shooting Lance a smile that could have probably melted ice. Lance winced at the mention of afternoon, sorely aware that he had slept in. "Keith and I have bacon and eggs for you - or rather, _I_ have bacon and eggs for you." The buff man shot his smaller boyfriend a glare, who shrugged and continued eating his bacon.

   "I'm sorry I slept in!" Lance squeaked out. "It won't happen again, that was rude, so I'm sorry."

   Keith looked up from his plate and stared with a confused expression at Lance. "We literally got home at four in the morning last night? And your trashy abusive boyfriend broke up with you? You can sleep in."

   Lance pinched the palm of his hand and winced, but not because of the pain it brought him. Keith definitely wasn't mincing words here. "I know, but I still shouldn't have slept in like that, I'm wasting your tim-"

   "Lance," Shiro interrupted, voice firm but kind. "It's fine - we all had a late night and slept in a bit this morning. You're fine."

   Lance wanted to argue the point, it _wasn't_ fine. They had to be upset, even if it was just a little bit. But past experiences with Lotor had taught him that arguing was a no. So he shut up, nodded his head compliantly, and pinched his hand a bit more. "Okay," he murmured.

   "Do you want some food?" Shiro asked, offering up a plate of bacon and eggs. "Sorry we're low on bacon, Keith got up earlier and decided to burn three packages of it for himself."

   Keith threw a piece of bacon at Shiro, and it hit him on the ear before falling to the ground in a pile of ash. Shiro glared at him and threw it away, earning a cry of rage from Keith. 

   Lance laughed softly and nodded his head, taking the offered plate of food tentatively. "Thank you," he said, and began to eat. The eggs were a tad bit too salty, and the bacon a bit too soft (there had to be a perfect balance, in his opinion), and it definitely didn't begin to compare to his mom's cooking, but it was good nonetheless.

   "Water or orange juice?" Shiro asked, rifling through the fridge.

   "Alcohol," Keith groaned, a sick look on his face. Half of his burned bacon plate had been eaten, and now he looked as if he was regretting this very much. 

   "Keith, I was asking Lance, and no. You just woke up." 

   "I want to drown in my mistakes," Keith moaned, a hand clutched to his stomach. 

   "Trust me love, you don't want alcohol. Lance, I'm just gonna get you orange juice. That okay?"

   Lance nodded his head. "That's good," he said, taking the offered glass gratefully. Even if it had been something he was allergic to he wouldn't have been able to refuse - Shiro was too kind. And he felt bad telling people 'no'. Like they would get angry at him for having preferences, even though the rational part of his mind knew they wouldn't.

    "I told you not to fry that much bacon, I knew you couldn't eat it all," Shiro snorted, covering the dish with plastic wrap and putting it in the fridge. "And now you're sick. Go drink some water and lay down." 

   Keith groaned again, too nauseous to argue. He took a sip of water and immediately trudged off to lay down on the couch in the living room. 

   Lance stayed quiet, taking in everything around him. The kitched was cleaned now (or rather, cleaner) and he could still smell the cinnamon that was there last night. After a quick examination, he saw a Scentsy candle plugged into the wall. He suppressed another laugh, that was probably Shiro's doing. Though who knew - maybe Keith had a secret Scentsy obsession.

   The thought of Keith going around the house and plugging in birthday-cake scented candles around the house almost made Lance choke on his egg. 

   He turned to observing the two men that had taken him in. Shiro was tall, buff, and had a jawline that had probably cut hearts into millions of pieces millions of times. On his right arm looked to be a tattoo of a mechanical robot arm. It covered his entire arm, and Lance shuddered. That must have hurt a lot to get done, especially on the fingers and wrist. Shiro had an odd undercut, and a shock of white hair fell across his forehead. It was an odd hairstyle, but it looked good on him.

   Keith had a mullet (what was it with these people and odd haircuts?) but surprisingly, it looked good on him too. His hair was jet black, and he was on the smaller side. It reminded Lance of the emo phase his sister had gone through in middle school, except Keith was in his twenties and Lance didn't think it was a phase anymore. At this point, it was a way of life.

   He finished his breakfast in relative silence, despite Shiro's many attempts at conversation. He really did like talking to him, and he really wanted to talk to him, but his heart was pounding and his legs were shaking slightly and he just _couldn't_. His brain was short-circuiting, and he couldn't make out any responded aside from 'yes', 'no,' and 'i don't know'.

   Finally, though, he thought of a subject. "Oh!" He exclaimed, setting down his fork. "I got a job!"

   Saying it out loud made it real; for the first time in roughly four years, Lance McClain had a job. A smile spread across his face, he had a job. 

   Shiro smiled encouragingly at the Cuban as he washed the frying pan. "That's great! Where is it, and when do you start?"

   "Sal's? It's a hamburger place. I start tomorrow afternoon, and go until six."

   "That's great, Lance. We're here for you, don't forget that. You can stay with us as soon as you get a place of your own - no matter how long it takes."

   Lance averted his gaze. "Thanks," he whispered. "I... that's really nice, guys. You're sure I'm not intruding?"

   Shiro waved him off with a flick of his wrist. "Of course not, we love the company. You're completely fine, we love to help."

   Lance fidgeted - his heart was racing again, and his fingers were starting to shake. "Okay, but it's going to be a bit until I get enough money to be able to afford an apartment, you're sure? Can I pay rent here? I have to, don't I? Isn't that the rules?"

   Shiro shook his head. "I don't think so. Our landlord's pretty fair, she'll understand."

   "Oh, okay. I still want to pay rent, though. Or, I could pay for groceries. I'm living under your roof and eating your food, it's only fair..."

   "You're not paying us anything!" Keith's voice called out from his place on the couch. He sounded slightly less sick. "I won't let you!"

   Lance flinched. Memories of arguments with Lotor flashed through his head, arguments about trivial things. Trivial things, like what they were arguing about now. "Sorry... sorry," he mumbled, lowering his head. "I just don't want to cause any trouble..."

   Shiro placed a careful hand on his trembling shoulder. "Hey, hey, you're good. If you really want to pay rent, we can talk about a price. But only after three weeks of you being here, I don't want to siphon your money the moment you earn it."

   Lance nodded numbly, offering a weak smile. All the fight had been drained out of him. "Thank you." The hand on his shoulder squeezed comfortingly, then slipped away.

   Keith stepped into the room and walked up next to Shiro and Lance. "When do you want to leave to get your stuff?" He asked, changing the subject. Lance noticed he was decidedly more careful with his words. "We're free today, so any time is good."

   "Whenever you want to is fine," Lance said automatically. He was still a bit shaken up from the conversation on rent, and he was thankful for Keith changing the subject.

   "Okay... how about two hours? Is that good?" Keith turned around and looked the clock, squinting his eyes. "So... two-thirthy?"

   "Yeah, that's perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! As always leave comments and kudos, they are a dying writer's fuel. 
> 
> PLEASE GO TO MY TUMBLR IM LONELY IT'S xrememberflowersx
> 
> THANKS <3


	4. Dumpsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's another chapter, please enjoy and as always please leave kudos and comments! They are a dying writer's fuel.
> 
> tw for talk about an abusive setting, general anxiety, and a super dick move

   In two hours, they were all ready to go. Lance slipped his dead phone in the waistband of his underwear again, just in case they decided to drop him and he didn't come back to the apartment. 

   Keith had let him use a hairbrush and dry shampoo, which Lance was eternally grateful for. It wasn't the same as taking an actual shower (when he got his stuff, he would take one at the apartment or in a public shower, depending on if they let him stay) but his hair wasn't greasy and it was free of all tangles. His hair was very important to him - he swore by it. His mom had always said that he had the best hair out of all his siblings, which Lance took to heart. 

   Keith and Shiro stepped out of the apartment, and only then did Lance shuffle on his flip-flops and follow. Shiro locked the door and started down the hall, Keith at his right side and Lance trailing nervously behind. 

   Lance's hands shook as he got into the backseat of the car (he had to step over various food wrappers, so he guessed it was Keith's), so much so that it was hard to buckle his seatbelt. He took a few shaky breaths, trying to quell the anxiety forming in his stomach.

   If Shiro or Keith noticed, Lance was eternally grateful for them not saying anything. 

   He was panicking. The thought of seeing Lotor again made his heart race and limbs shake. Would Lotor kick him out? Would he even give his stuff back? Surely he'd give Lance his stuff back - he had no use for it and Lotor _had_ been the one to break it off. 

   Lance was no longer Lotor's boyfriend. He repeated it in his head a few times, but it didn't seem quite real yet. As if tomorrow he would wake up and make Lotor his breakfast and wash his dishes, as if he would spend hours agonizing over his makeup and acne because Lotor _hated_  a dirty face. Even if it was oil-free and shiny from being washed, Lotor insisted on concealer for old acne scars and even that one miniscule scar near Lance's ear.

   A small part of him whispered, " _I want Lotor back_." Lance immediately crushed that thought, twisting and pressing until it retreated back into the recesses of his mind. He did _not_ want Lotor back, no way. Not after everything that had happened. No sane person would ever want to have that piece of _shit_ back in their lives.

   Though now, maybe he wasn't sane anymore. 

   "Lance?" Shiro asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. _Yes, Shiro? I was just questioning my mental sanity, you know, the usual._ "Where is this place?"

   "Oh! Sorry, sorry. You know that really fancy apartment complex, over by Walker St.? It's that one. Floor three, room number eighty-four." Floor three, room number eighty-four. Where he had lived for the past three years.

   "Is that the apartment complex that has their dumpster out in the open on both sides?" Keith snickered. "Man, for the fancy carpet and giant gold lettering, they sure do like to show off their trash."

   Lance nodded, despite the fact that Keith couldn't see him. "Yes, that's the one."

   "See? It has fancy carpets and gold lettering on the outside, but there's a lot of trash. It stands for the trashy, selfish people that live there and drown in their riches. Probably like Lotor," Shiro stated, stopping at a stoplight. He was met with blank stares and silence. "What?" 

   Keith snorted. "You should hear yourself, you sound like some crotchety old professor. And not everyone that lives there are jerks. I'd say at least half."

   "Well I didn't mean everyone! I just-" Shiro cut himself off, realizing his mistake. A blush was starting to form on his face, and his usually calm demeanor had completely faded away. "I didn't mean everyone!" He repeated lamely, and Keith laughed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

   "I know, babe," he said, holding in his laughter. "Sorry for teasing you."

   "You're forgiven, I guess," Shiro responded, a smile spread across his still-red face. To Lance, it looked kind of cute. _No, stop that, he's in a relationship, what the hell Lance._

   Right there. That's what a romantic relationship between two people should look like. Gentle teasing and apologizing, no hard feelings, tender love, all of that stuff. It wasn't what Lance had had with Lotor. It didn't even come close after the one-year mark. Lance shouldn't want anything else but that. _But you miss Lotor_ , the ugly little voice said to him, _you miss him_!

    _No, I don't_ , Lance thought as he looked out of the window. He recognized his surroundings, ten minutes to go. _How could I? He was horrible to me._

    _But you do miss him, and you were horrible to him! He misses you now, and you miss him. Nobody will ever love you, only him._

    _That wasn't love_ , Lance thought back fiercely, looking out the window. _That wasn't love_.

   A million other arguments came to counter what he had just thought, but Lance pushed it aside. His breathing had started to quicken, and he focused on controlling it. He could not have a meltdown in Keith's car, there was no way he was going to do that.

  Another glance out the window told him that they were almost there. He could already see the top of the apartment building - and one of the two trash dumpsters on the side. 

   He felt his stomach tighten as they drove closer. He could see Lotor's apartment window from here, the window he had longingly gazed out of so many times. Lotor was in that apartment, right now. The thought made Lance groan inwardly - this would not be fun.

   "Shiro, drive past the dumpster! I want to take a photo," Keith said, pulling out his phone. Shiro sighed but drove over to the dumpster anyway, close enough so Keith could get a good photo. 

   "Oh my gosh, look at this! Who threw all that away, that's all perfectly good stuff! Snobby rich people," Keith sniped, rolling down his window in an attempt to get a better picture.

   Lance looked at the garbage dumpster, and immediately his heart plummeted. His stomach tightened even more, and he thought he would be sick. Because sitting right on top of the pile of trash were all of Lance's things. His shampoo, clothes, hell, even his stuffed animal had been thrown away. Lotor had thrown it away. 

   "Shiro," Lance whispered, feeling very much sick, "please stop the car."

   Shiro stopped the car and turned around to look at Lance, a concerned look on his face. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

   "That's my stuff in the garbage," was all Lance could say. He felt sicker by the minute and even worse, he felt like he was going to start crying. Lotor was a terrible person, but he didn't expect his ex to stoop this low. Throwing away everything he had? Who did that?

   " _What_?!" Keith hissed, turning around. He looked furious, rage smoldering in his purple eyes. "He threw away your stuff?! What the _hell_?!"

   Lance shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. "I guess so," he whispered, hating the way that the tears gathered in his eyes and the way his hands shook and oh _god_ , they were watching him. "I'll go collect it, then."

   He opened the door and darted out, not even looking back. He had to get away, he couldn't let them see him like this. Crying. Weak. Pathetic. _Nobody but I will ever love you._

   Lance heard the car drive away behind him, and tried to ignore the pang of hurt that came after. He should have known, really. He was a bother and too much to handle. _Nobody but I will ever love you._

   He started towards his pile of clothes and toiletries (ew, he would have to get a new toothbrush) when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and turned around, expecting a gunman or worse, Lotor. Instead, he was met with the smoldering poker face of Keith. 

   "Shiro went to park the car, apparently parking in the middle of the road is looked down upon. Come on, let's get your stuff."

   Lance nodded dumbly and began gathering his things. So they hadn't ditched him after all. The thought was mildly comforting, but he couldn't stop himself from hearing the little voice in his head, _they'll ditch you another time._

   After a few minutes Shiro joined them in their dumpster raid. Lance had collected all of his clothes, his shower stuff, shoes, his stuffed cat, toothpaste, and comb. (Lotor had taken his face products and hair gel, he noticed, but after everything that had happened he really wasn't that surprised.)

   Shiro had brought with him a plastic trashbag to put his stuff in, which Lance gratefully used. He would still have to get laundry detergent to wash his stuff, but thankfully his clothes and such didn't smell too bad. Lotor must have just thrown it away this morning.

   If there was a bright side to any of this, it was that at least he didn't have to see Lotor today. 

   Keith was still raging about Lotor. "How could he do something like that!" The mullet-haired man exclaimed, hands balled into fists that Lance knew could probably kill someone. "I mean, what the hell! That's so messed up!"

   Shiro shrugged, but Lance could see that he was angry as well. "People are messed up," was all he said, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

   Lance mentally kicked himself. He had brought them into this mess of his, and now they were angry. After everything the two had done for him, Lance had managed to make them _angry_ , of all things.

   "Sorry for dragging you into this mess," Lance half-laughed, fiddling with his fingers. "I've caused you guys so much trouble..."

   "No. Lance, don't you dare apologize. Literally none of this is your fault, it's his. That no-good, son of a-" Keith cut himself off, muttering curses and insults angrily. Lance didn't hear it all, but he caught snippets of what the man was saying, and it turned out there were a lot more curse words in the book than he'd ever thought possible.

   "Keith's right. Don't apologize, Lance, you're all good. We're not upset with you, only with Lotor," Shiro affirmed, hands more relaxed now. He looked at Lance through the rearview mirror, waiting for confirmation. Lance could only nod mutely and look away. He was doing a lot of that recently. 

   He drew the five dollar bill out of his pocket and smoothed it out, taking a good look at it. It was crumpled and had that worn-dollar-bill feeling to it. The tear was small, but it was there, and Lance wondered what caused it. The stain was more prominent than ever, as if it was mocking Lance and all his mistakes. 

   And yet, it was still a five-dollar-bill. It still had value, and he could still buy a McDonalds meal with it. Just because it was torn a bit and stained didn't mean it was worth any less.

   It was something Lance had read online, about some philosopher guy who had crumpled up a twenty-dollar-bill and pointed out the same thing - it still had worth. Then he had likened it to people, and how even though we may be torn or stained or crumpled up at times, we still had worth.

   But it was one thing knowing you had worth and believing you had worth. For years, Lance had been torn down by Lotor. His worth was whatever Lotor decided it was, and it wasn't much. 

   He was the five-dollar bill, not the twenty. Twenty was Keith and Shiro. Twenty was his family. Twenty was not Lance. Lance was the five - used, overlooked, and not worth much, though still worth something. 

   He carefully tucked the dollar bill into the  pocket of the chair in front of him. Now it was Keith's five-dollar bill, now Lance had paid him back for what he had bought.

   However, Lance couldn't help but feel that he still had so, so much to pay back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I really hope ya'll enjoyed! 
> 
> Season four messed me up soooo baddd
> 
> My tumblr is xrememberflowersx, shoot me a message because I always enjoy chatting! 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments, thank you for reading!


	5. Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and here's a new chapter! Please enjoy and leave kudos + comments!
> 
>  
> 
> tw for general anxiety and talk about an abusive situation

   When they got back to the apartment, Shiro insisted that they all go over the rules. If Lance was going to be staying with them then there needed to be an understanding of what it would be like. It would benefit everyone, in his opinion.

   Shiro led the younger men into the living room and gestured for them to sit down. Keith promptly stretched out across the couch, leaving no room for anyone else. Lance took a seat in a chair. _He looks uncomfortable_ , Shiro noted. But that was nothing new, really. Lance always looked tense, nervous. 

   "Okay! Relax everybody, I'm going to go over some rules. If there are any objections just say so, because I'm not a parent or anything and you guys are adults," Shiro said, shoving Keith's legs off the couch cushions and taking a seat. Keith didn't even bother to fight it, just shifted positions. "Should I start?"

   He was met with quiet nods and matching thumbs-up hand signs.  "Okay! First off, the guest room is now yours, Lance, until you move out. No permanent alterations to it, please - such as painting, holes in walls, and such. That good?"

   Lance nodded his head, eyes glued to the floor. "That's good," he murmured. He fiddled with his fingers, something Shiro noticed he did a lot when he was nervous. 

   Curse that bastard Lotor for doing this to him. How could you knowingly, willingly reduce someone to this? Lance had mental scars that were probably going to take years to fade. And it was all Lotor's fault. 

   Shiro thought he'd done a pretty good job of controlling his anger so far in life. (Although, compared to Keith, even the angriest person may seem pretty calm). Through bullies in highschool, a trashy step-father, and an even trashier boss, Shiro had managed to keep his cool. It was one of his redeeming qualities, he thought. But the thought of someone mentally tearing someone apart on purpose, _especially_ someone as sweet as Lance? It made him want to go into a blind rage.

   Honestly, he was surprised Keith had only gone into one blind-rage during this entire ordeal.

   "Okay. Well, for the guest bathroom the same rules apply. It's yours - just no permanent alterations," Shiro continued, and pulled the next thing off his mental list of rules. "If you insist, you can start paying rent in three weeks. Like I said earlier, I don't want to completely wipe you of any cash you're earning. And you're not paying full rent, mind you. Keith and I managed just fine before, and one more person literally does not do anything to us." 

   "I still think he shouldn't pay any rent," Keith grumbled from his place on the couch. "We're basically taking money from him and that's stupid because we don't need it and it won't go anywhere."

   "But I don't want to be a freeloader!" Lance broke in, voice high-pitched and panicky. "I would be taking advantage of you guys, please, _please_ let me pay you back for this!" 

   "Whoa, whoa whoa," Shiro murmured soothingly, shooting Keith a glare. "It's fine. We don't mind you paying rent at all. It's going to go towards groceries that we buy, don't worry. We won't force you to do anything."

   Lance relaxed a bit, but Shiro noticed his nails were digging into his hand. Angry red crescent-shaped divots were scattered across the back of it, and Shiro bit his tongue and willed himself not to say anything. Keith was staring, too, but Shiro was relieved when the hot-headed man didn't say anything.

   "Okay, third! Keith and I both have jobs and Keith takes college classes online, so to save any confusion, I'm going to lay out the schedule. I work as an Apple technician from six AM to four PM, and I usually get weekends off. Keith has online college odd hours of the day - you'll come to learn his schedule, he's at home most the time - but he works at a frozen yogurt place on Fridays and Mondays, from one PM to six PM. You said you were working at Sal's?"

   Lance nodded, brightening up. Noted. "Yeah! From twelve PM to six PM. I get Sundays off, I think."

   "Great!" Shiro exclaimed, giving a soft smile. "It's just a short walk from here, right? You don't need any transportation?"

   Lance shook his head. "No, I can just walk," he said, and Shiro noticed that he wasn't fiddling with his fingers anymore. "And I would walk anyway - I hate public transportation."

   Keith nodded. "It's the pits. Literally. It smells like a bunch of armpits having a party."

   "What, like your car?" Shiro teased, nudging Keith playfully.

   Keith shrugged nonchalanty, clearly unbothered. "It's not nearly as bad," he pointed out. "Just a few food wrappers here and there."

   "Keith, I can't see the floor of your car because of the amount of food wrappers. That's pretty bad, not to mention disgusting."

   "It wasn't so bad," Lance put in, then blushed when he realized what he had just said. "I mean, you know." 

   He was back to fiddling with his fingers. _Social anxiety?_ Probably amplified by Lotor, if not because of him. 

   Keith seemed to have noticed Lance's nervous mannerisms as well. "See! Lance thinks it's fine!" 

   Shiro knew that Keith was carefully reaffirming what Lance had said. He felt a stab of pride for his boyfriend, being so receptive and understanding. When they had started dating, he had been relatively closed off, careful not to let anyone close to him. It was a result of all those times in the foster system, Keith later told him. 

   Communication was now a big thing for Keith since he had spent his entire life bottling up emotions and building up walls. A few months into their relationship, it had been almost shocking how much the man had changed. Instead of shutting down, he actually tried to talk out problems and find solutions. Of course, Keith still shut down from time to time, but Shiro could see that he really did try not to.

   Shiro rolled his eyes playfully. "Sure, Keith," he said, trying to keep the conversation as light as possible. "You still have to clean the car out next week, though."

   Keith scowled, waving Shiro off with a flick of his wrist. "Yeah, yeah. Are those all the rules?"

   "About. One last thing - not really a rule persay, just letting you know. Lance, know you can always talk to us about anything. We're always here to help, no matter what. Okay?" Shiro rushed out, studying Lance as he spoke.

   The man looked highly uncomfortable, to say the least. His arms were wrapped around himself and he was hunched over. Shiro noticed his nails digging into his arms repeatedly and again fought the urge to run over and hug him and tell him to stop.

   "Okay," Lance murmured quietly, his brow furrowed slightly. _He really is quite attractive_ , Shiro thought. Dark brown hair framed tan, freckle-splashed skin. Deep blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean were staring at the carpeted floor beneath him. Shiro wished that someday he could see what they looked like when they weren't so full of pain.

   "Alright! I think that covers most of the rules, then," Shiro exclaimed, twisting around to stretch his back. "Any questions, guys?"

   Keith shrugged. "I think you went over everything," he said, voice indifferent. "Good job."

   "Well, yay. Lance? Anything you want to ask or add?" Shiro asked, looking at the man from across the room. It was a hit or miss thing on singling him out - but if he _did_ have something to say then Shiro made sure to give him the opportunity to say it. The last thing Shiro wanted was for Lance to feel left out.

   "Oh, uh, yeah. What about times I can leave the apartment? What are those?" Lance asked, back to fiddling with his fingers.

   Keith cocked his head slightly, looking confused. "You can leave at literally any time. You're not trapped here, you know."

   Shiro nodded, reaffirming what Keith had just said. "Keith's right. You aren't a prisoner, Lance. You can come and go as you please."

   Shiro knew that this had to be Lotor's influence. Why else would Lance ask about times he could leave the apartment? The thought occured to him that Lotor must have had times he could leave the apartment - of course he did. Shiro fought down the bubbling rage, swallowing it and willing it t stay down. 

   "Oh, okay. Sorry," Lance muttered, looking away. "Thank you."

   Shiro smiled softly. "It's fine, Lance. You don't have to apologize."

   Keith gave a thumbs-up. "Yeah, you're good. By the way, what's your phone number? We're apartment-mates and all that now, so we should have a way to communicate."

   Lance's eyes widened a bit, and he seemed to curl in on himself even more. "I- uh, I don't have a number, really," he said, looking more uncomfortable than Shiro had seen so far. "I have a phone? But it doesn't, really, have service. I just have an iMessage."

   Shiro tried not to let the information shock him - after everything he'd seen and heard, really, it shouldn't have surprised him. "Oh! That's fine. I have an Apple, so I'll be able to text you. Keith swears by his Samsung, unfortunately, so he won't be able to text you, but I can get information across. What's the email you use for it?"

   Lance nodded, but he still hadn't relaxed. "Um.. I kind of need a charger for it. It's dead, and I don't have a charger. I used Lotor's when I had to, you know, in secret. So, is it okay if you wait until I get a charger of my own?"

   "Lance, you're fine. I'm literally an Apple technician. I can get you a good charger for your phone, what's the model?" Shiro asked, again trying to hide the bristles that came up when Lotor's controlling behavior was mentioned. From the way Lance had worded it, it sounded like he wasn't even allowed to have a _phone_.

   "Oh, it's a 5. It uses the new chargers. And here, I can put my email in your phone," Lance said, stretching out his hand. Shiro nodded and unlocked it, handing it to him. The man was clearly more relaxed, shoulders not as tense and eyebrows unscrunched. Shiro wished he could see this side of him more.

   Lance handed the phone back when he was done typing. Shiro noticed his hand was shaking, but when the man sat back in his chair he didn't continue to fiddle with his fingers. Good. They weren't making him _too_ uncomfortable.

   "Okay! We're good now? Anything anyone needs to add?" Shiro said, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

   Again he was met with matching shakes of heads and thumbs-up. Shiro snorted and smiled to himself. "Good! Well, it's almost dinnertime," he said, noting the warm reds of the outside evening. "Keith, you want to take kitchen duty?"

   Keith nodded eagerly. "Hell yes I do! It's noodles and cheese tonight, baby!" He leaned over and encased Shiro in a hug, placing an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

   Shiro laughed in surprise, hugging back. "Lance, would you like to join us?"

   Lance hesitated for a moment, and Shiro willed him to say yes. Finally, he nodded his head and meekly looked up at Shiro. "Yeah, okay," he said in a small voice, but it was a yes, and Shiro would take it.

   And looking back at the dark-haired man clinging to his shoulder, Shiro could see that his boyfriend was just as relived as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed and don't forget to leave comments and kudos, they are literally my writing fuel
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE HMU, MY TUMBLR IS xrememberflowersx, SHOOT ME A MESSAGE SOMETIME!


	6. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for sticking with me so long ^-^
> 
> I wrote 4/5 of this chapter at 5 AM, while I was sick in bed. So hopefully it doesn't suck too bad.
> 
> Take this chapter and enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> tw for minorish violence, abusive setting, talk of abuse, and general anxiety

   When Lance went to bed that night, his mind was whirling, to say the least.

   Shiro had insisted upon washing his clothes, and Lance had hesitantly obliged. He had wanted clean clothes, of course, but clean clothes meant using their detergent and detergent costs money and money was something he didn't really have at the moment.

   Shiro had also given him a charger, which Lance had accepted less-hesitantly when he realized that they had five other chargers. So Lance had a fully-charged, working phone now. 

   He was still a bit hesitant on reopening his social media accounts. Even though his brain comprehended (for the most part, at least) that Lotor was no longer a threat (he didn't listen to the anxiety that said Lotor was going to _kill him_ ), in his heart he still felt like Lotor was going to punish him for everything he was doing _wrong_.

   He looked around the tiny guest room, to the dresser that had his folded, clean clothes in it, to the nightstand with the clock, and to the closed closet. The scene reminded him somewhat of the book, _Goodnight Moon_. Soft moonlight was peeking out of the folds of the blinds, giving the room a light glow.

    _It's all so strange_ , he thought to himself. _But I don't know why it is._

It was something he couldn't quite place. Lance could almost feel the giant, gaping hole in his heart, the hole that had craved love for so long but never recieved it. He could almost taste the bitter feeling of hurt and regret. 

   Who was he now? Just a shell of his former self. He was no longer Lance McClain: Heartthrob and Jokester. He was no longer Lance McClain: Awkward Bi Teen who Loves Art.

   The hardest thing to comprehend, though, was that he was no longer Lance McClain: Lotor's Boyfriend and Toy. 

   Three out of the four years they'd been dating, Lance's entire identity had been in Lotor. But now that he didn't have Lotor anymore, who was he? He had forgotten, lost sight, of who he was.

   Lance sighed and crawled under the covers, trying to still the complicated train of thought that was going through his head. He had work tomorrow - he couldn't stay up like he did the other night. He had to be as well-rested as possible.

   Sitting up, he readjusted the pillows so they lay on either side of him. One was pressed up against his back, the other he hugged to his chest. Lance was always cuddly - having a big family made that almost inevitable. But Lance knew that he would have been cuddly no matter his upbringing. He craved it. Snuggling made him feel safe, warm, and loved. All things he had definitely _not_ felt for quite some time.

   Lotor had catered to him the first year they were dating, but after that, cuddling was done less and less. As someone who thrived on physical touch, it had definitely not been enjoyable for Lance, and it certainly hadn't made him feel any more loved.

   Unfortunately, Lance thrived on another thing: words of affirmation. And Lotor was one hell of a smooth-talker. It was why they had gotten together in the first place - Lotor had smooth-talked his way into Lance's life, caressing worries with his words. He told Lance he was beautiful. He told Lance that he loved him. He told Lance that he was perfect, just the way he was.

   But the sweet words only lasted for so long.

   Because he also Lance that nobody would ever love him, that nobody ever loved him, except Lotor. He told Lance that Lotor was the only one who would ever think he was attractive. He told Lance that everybody was lying to him, from day one, about everything. Because everyone but Lotor hated him.

   Lance groaned softly, the words running through his head. _Nobody but I will ever love you. Nobody but I has ever loved you. You're mine, and you listen to my rules._

Lance hugged the pillow closer, shutting his eyes. His heart was racing and his fingers had started shaking, a sure sign he was about to have an anxiety attack. He just had to tune out, focus on something else. Anything else. He buried his face into the pillow and took a deep breath. It smelled like freshly washed sheets, which wasn't really a huge shocker. Lance suspected Shiro didn't even let Keith into this room, with his destructive tendencies.

   The faint buzz of the air conditioning was the only thing that could be heard, aside from the occasional rustling of the sheets. Lance listened to the steady sound, and oddly enough, it was relaxing. The worry was still there, but the shaking had ceased, and he was considerably more calm than before.

    _Just go to sleep_ , Lance told himself. _Go to sleep_.

   After ten minutes, he was out, the pillows still snug against his skin.

 

 

*^*^*^*^*

 

    _Lance was in his old apartment, the one he had shared with Lotor. Tears were streaming down his face as he looked up at his boyfriend, who wore a stony expression. His hands were on his hips and he was staring down, rather condescendingly, at Lance. If there was any mercy in his gaze, he hid it well._

_But Lance didn't think there was any mercy. He hoped there was, but that was all wishful thinking._

_"Please," Lance begged, hands clasped together desperately. "Please, can't I visit my family once this year? After Christmas? You can come, I promise."_

_A thoughtful look came across Lotor's face, but Lance knew that it was fake. They'd played this game before._

_"You despise me enough... that you would rather spend Christmas with your family instead of me?" Lotor asked, getting down on one knee to look Lance in the eye. There was pity in his hazel eyes, and for a second Lance let himself believe he had a chance. "Do you not love me? Am I not enough?"_

_Lance opened his mouth to protest that no, Lotor was enough, but he was silenced by a finger to the lips. "It's a shame you keep falling for their old tricks. You know they don't love you? Only I have ever loved you. Nobody else, pet. Am I correct in this?"_

_Lance nodded weakly, the argument dead in his throat. He knew it would be fruitless. That still couldn't stop the spark that rose up in him, though. "Just this one year, Lotor," he begged again. "And then I'll never ask again, and I swear I'll stay with you forever."_

_Lotor laughed darkly, a sound that had always sent chills through Lance's body. He brought his hand up to cup Lance's chin, and stroked it fondly. "Oh, pet, I don't think so. I know how that goes. You'll keep wanting more, and then eventually I'll lose you to those that don't care for you."_

_Lance stayed silent for a second, but then a thought came to mind, "What would you do if I broke up with you?" He asked meekly. The hand on his chin tightened for a brief moment, but immediately relaxed._

_"I'm not worried," Lotor said smoothly, but there was a hint of a warning in his voice. "If you left, you'd come crawling back anyway, wouldn't you, pet?"_

_Lance didn't respond, the fire to fight completely dead. Lotor chuckled and squeezed his chin a final time, until letting go and walking over to the nearby couch. "Come, pet, I have something to show you."_

_Lance stood up and wiped his face, knowing he'd have to wash it later if he were to please Lotor. He couldn't have a dirty face. He joined Lotor next to the couch, who was currently digging in the cushions for something._

_Lotor seemed to find what he was looking for, because a satisfied look flitted across his face. He pulled out a knife, shining and probably freshly sharpened. Lance furrowed his brow, and panic tugged at his heart. The confusion was only amplified when he saw that there was fresh blood already on the knife._

_Lotor smiled at his reaction, and  turned the knife over in his hands, admiring the sparkle. Lance saw that there was a cut on his finger, probably from digging around blindly for a knife. So that was where the blood had come from. He still didn't know why there was a knife in the couch, though._

_"What...?" Lance asked, stepping back. Lotor's arm shot out and grabbed the Cuban by the wrist, holding it in a death grip._

_Lance shrieked, twisting his arm back and forth in an attempt to get away. Realization hit him full-force - THIS IS A DREAM. He tried to control it, tried to get away, but it didn't work. Lotor merely smiled sadistically at him, holding the knife in hand._

Wake up wake up wake up wake up _, Lance thought to himself frantically._ Wake up! Wake up! _He fell to the ground and Lotor let him go. He tried to crawl away but was stopped by a foot planted square in his back._

_His struggling stopped the moment he felt cool, sharp metal, at the base of his neck. "Do you want me to press deeper?" Lotor murmured in his ear, horribly, sadistically. Lance gasped out a 'no'._

_The knife pressed harder, and Lance could feel cool blood trickling down his back. Why could he feel it? This was a dream!_ WAKE UP!

_"Too bad," Lotor laughed, and all at once he pushed it in, and Lance screamed, and-_

Lance shot upwards in his bed, a raspy yell escaping his voice. He frantically felt for the back of his neck, sighing in relief when there was no scar or indentation to be felt. His eyes darted around the room in a frenzy of panic, and he immediately wrapped his arms around himself. 

    _It wasn't real_ , he told himself. Well, up until the knife part, it had been real. _It's not real_.

   A knock sounded at the door and Lance jumped, curling in on himself. _It's Lotor_ , he panicked, giving a little squeak of terror. _It's Lotor it's Lotor oh god I'm going to die it's Lotor where am I why don't I recognize thi-_

   "Lance? Everything okay?" A voice, not Lotor's thank god, sounded through the door. Lance didn't respond, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't place who it was. _Keller? Ken?_ None of those sounded right.

"Lance? Are you good?" It was a deeper voice now, there were definitely two people outside the door. Shin? Shira? Shiro- oh _crap_. 

   Like a shock of lighting, it hit Lance. Keith and Shiro. He was in their apartment, and he would bet money on the fact that they had just been woken up by his yell. A fresh wave of panic ran through him, and he started to feel sick. Why him, why him, why him? 

   The door opened a crack, and warm light flooded through the small room. Lance refused to look up, too embarrassed to do anything. _Please just leave_ , he willed them. _Just leave_.

   Of course, they didn't. There were two dips in the bed next to Lance. He jumped when a hand brushed across his back, rubbing soft, gentle circles. "Lance, what's wrong?" 

   That was Keith, to his right. Which meant that was Shiro on his left, who was leaning next to him, murmuring gently. 

   "Nightmare - but I'm fine now. I'm so sorry. I must have woken you guys up, I'm so sorry," Lance wheezed, clutching the blankets in a death grip. He wanted, oh so badly, to let them comfort him. He wanted them to hold him as he fell asleep. He wanted to feel loved again.

   But he knew he didn't like them in that way, and that was only his touch-starved and love-deprived self begging to feel loved, just once. Furthermore, he couldn't like them that way. Keith and Shiro were in a relationship, and the chances that they were poly were pretty slim.

   "Don't apologize, I get those a lot," Shiro soothed, now rubbing his hand on Lance's back. The Cuban resisted the urge to lean into the touch, to feel loved. He couldn't. He shouldn't. He wasn't worthy. 

   "What was it about?" Keith asked, voice soft and low. "If you want to tell us, that is.

   Lance shifted, still unwilling to look at them. "Lotor," he whispered, trying to still his shaking hands. "He came at me with a knife." 

   Shiro drew in a sharp breath, and it seemed like Keith was holding his. "Did that actually happen?" Keith asked, voice tense.

   Lance shook his head. "No, no. Well, the first part of the dream, yes, but the knife part was all just a dream," he tried to reassure, but it sounded like he way lying, even though he was telling the truth. It was the shaky voice, he decided.

   Both men relaxed. The hands on his back had stilled, but they were still there, and Lance willed them away. Before he got too comfortable. Before he did anything he regretted.

   Thankfully, they seemed to have gotten the memo, and as Shiro spoke, the hands were gently removed. "I can make us some hot chocolate, if you'd like," he offered. "It always helps me after a nightmare."

   Lance shook his head quickly. "No, I've caused you guys enough trouble. Thank you, you can just leave me here though. I should get rest."

   There was a slight hesitation, and for a second Lance thought they would argue, but eventually Shiro nodded, standing up to leave. Keith followed suite, standing next to his boyfriend and placing an arm around his shoulders. "If you need anything, just holler, okay? Promise?" 

   Lance nodded, "I promise." He said, lying right through his teeth. Were they kidding? Was this a test? There was no way Lance would bother them again. He'd have to find a way to solve this nightmare business. 

   He found it amusing that when he lied, he sounded like he was telling the truth, and it was the other way around for when he was actually telling the truth. Just another fun, messed-up fact about him.

   They smiled at him and left the room, gently closing the door behind them. When they left Lance collapsed on the bed, trying not to think too much about what had happened. It was too embarrassing. 

   It was definitely going to be a field day - or month, or however long it took Lance to get a place of his own, for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this! Please please please leave comments, even if you think it won't matter to me it definitely does and it's literally my motivation for writing these chapters!
> 
> I feel like the ending is rushed but eh
> 
> Hmu on tumblr, it's @xrememberflowersx ! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading <3


	7. Author's Note Because I Suck

I am so sorry, everybody.

I will be taking a rather long hiatus as of now. From everything: Ao3, tumblr, everything. My mental health has declined rapidly, and there's a lot that is going on right now that prevents me from writing a good chapter. I'm just too tired as of now.

I won't be gone forever, though it's undefined when I'm actually going to officially ~come back~. I might throw up a chapter now and again, but don't expect the weekly updates that I used to give out. 

I now have a co-author, and we are currently discussing logistics and details and such. Expect an update soon! 

Again, I am so sorry. I'll try to get out a chapter (and I hate making these author notes) every now and again, but updates will be few and far between. (Is that a saying? I think so.) 

I love you all and thanks for sticking with me. <3 


	8. Welcome To Sal's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day at work, have some feelz  
> Tw: abuse  
> Short chappie sorry  
> Also yes, you should read this chapter title in the "Welcome To Chili's" voice (I am human trash)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo, so like, I get to work on this AMAZING story (I may or may not had of fangirled when I got the news), and I'm really excited!! Not gonna lie, xRememberFlowersx and I have different writing styles, so it is slightly differently written. However, I did try to stick to her style as much as possible. Anywho, introductions seem to be in order XD, my name is Faith and my pronouns are she/they. I hope you enjoy!!

When Lance awoke, he almost immediately was rushed with a sense of embarrassment. The previous night's events seemed to hang over his head, like weights pinning him to the bed. 

The weights that dragged down on him nearly made him give up, and just spend the day in bed. However, the familiar feeling of anxiety from sleeping in washed over him. 

Lance glanced over at to where his phone sat charging on Shiro's charger. 

Or well, his charger now, he supposed. 

Swiftly, Lance detached the chord and swiped across the screen. 

The time read 9:07 and he shivered, realizing just how late it was. He had less than an hour before his first shift at Sal's. 

Lance threw the covers off, before hastily making the bed. He then rushed off to the bathroom where he took the quickest shower known to man. 

Lance still felt out of place, like an intruder on Keith and Shiro's home. He didn't bother eating something, it felt morally wrong to eat someone else's food in someone else's home. 

He forced down the gut-wrenching feeling of leaving without permission and settles with jotting down a short note. 

Left to work  
\- Lance

With that, Lance departed from the cozy apartment, stepping out onto the busy street road.

Outside, the sky was unleashing a wild and heavy torrent of rain- a shocker for the sunny California weather as of late. 

Lance pulled the already soaked hood of his borrowed hoodie up in an attempt to shield himself from the unrelenting rain. 

As he walked down the traffic-jammed streets, Lance felt himself being sucked into his head. 

Millions of different possible situations ran through his mind. 

He could get to the diner and find that they had already found a better, and more stable, employee to work for them. Afterall, it wouldn't be all too hard to find someone better, given how meaningless he was.

Or the manager could take one look at the thin Cuban boy and see how useless and utterly unneeded he was, it was obnoxiously easy to tell. A single glance easily revealed how broken and worthless he obviously was. 

Perhaps he somehow manages to land the job, but it would be more than easy for Lotor to show up. Sal's wasn't exactly a small barely-known restaurant. Lance didn't even want to imagine how he would react if Lotor found him. 

Lance was pulled out of his thoughts as he arrived at the bustling diner. 

Anxiety settling deep in his gut, he hesitantly pulled open the door before stepping inside. 

The hostess greeted him with a friendly smile as she asked him basic questions about being seated. 

"Oh uh, no," Lance nervously began, "I'm supposed to start today?"

Realization dawned on her face as her smile grew even more welcoming, "You must be Lance, I'll introduce you to Maria, she's going to teach you the ropes."

He nodded quickly before stepping to the side as she sat the customers behind him. 

When she returned, she gestured for me to follow her as she began to walk over to somewhere behind the counter. 

"Don't worry about your coworkers, pretty much everyone here is super chill," she consoled, "Maria's a dear, honest. You'll get along great with the other waiters. And you'll just love our cooks."

He attempted a weak smile in an effort to appear more confident. 

"Oh, yeah!" she suddenly whipped around to face me, her blond hair swinging around her like a halo. 

She lightly swatted at her forehead, rolling her eyes, "My name is Trinity."

Lance flashed her a fast and shaky smile as she turned back around and we approached a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair. Her thick dark hair brought back memories of his Madre, the wavy hair in the exact same style his Ma always wore it in. 

"Hey!" the woman greeted with a thick Spanish accent, "You must be Lance?"

He nodded.

She grinned widely, "Let's get started, shall we?"

Maria was very kind and made everything seem less nerve-racking. With her help, Lance easily just started to flow with it, instincts taking over. 

-

"That's basically all of it," she chuckled, "Want to meet your coworkers?"

He shrugged, half-heartedly. The picturesque outward appearance of calm and collected. Lance's actual reaction was much more intense. 

His mind had automatically begun running a mile a minute. 

Connecting with your coworkers was a huge part of working. These were the people that'd you were going to see every day of your life. You had to get along with them in order to get your job done. This was just an innate fact of the world. 

Not only that, but Lance's new coworkers would obviously take priority in the manager's eyes. They had been here longer, and if they didn't mesh well then Lance would be the one fired.

Meeting his coworkers was a very serious matter that could end horribly for him. And honestly, Lance wasn't too sure that he wouldn't manage to mess it up. 

"Here is our cook, Hunk," Maria gestured to an all too familiar face. 

Hunk lifted his head up in their general direction whilst his eyes were still training on where he was chopping onions, "How you doing?"

Lance was unable to bring himself speak a coherent word, what did leave his mouth was a stammered 'huh' noise. 

As he finished up the onions he finally looked up to meet his Lance's gaze.

"L-lance?" Hunk whispered. 

"Hunk..." he breathed. 

Lance was almost immediately enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from the large and cuddly man. 

"Oh my god, it's been so long!" Hunk exclaimed. 

He nodded mutely. It has suddenly hit him that Lance hadn't been able to see Hunk in years... because of Lotor... because he... h-he...

"How are you?! How's your boyfriend? What's going on in your life?" Hunk shot off question after question, pulling Lance out of his dark train of thought.

Attempting to avoid the questions, Lance stared down at his ratty converse that adorned his feet. 

"Lance, are you okay...?" he questioned. 

Lance looked into the slightly taller man's eyes, tears already gathering and shook his head. 

Hunk nodded in understanding before turning to Maria, "Is it okay if we go on break really quick?"

Maria shook her head up and down vehemently before rushing out of the room, sensing the need for privacy. 

Hunk walked him out to a nearby park.

The sky was much clearer now, Lance thought as he sat on the still soaked bench. 

Lance brought up his knees to his chest as he waited for Hunk to say something. 

"What happened?" Hunk asked a twinge of sadness accompanied his voice. 

"Lotor... he um," Lance took a deep breath, "He didn't like me having friends..."

"Lance..." he breathed. 

"I know... I know now..."

"How did you- how did you leave him?" he questioned with a low voice. 

"This couple, Shiro and Keith, they... they got me out," Lance answered, "I'm living with them right now."

Lance closed his eyes and shook his head, "I-I didn't even... I didn't even realize that it wasn't normal. I didn't figure it out until just yesterday... seeing Shiro and Keith together... they... they're such a healthy relationship."

"God, I'm so fucking stupid!" Lance exclaimed, burying his face in his hands. 

Hunk wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "No, you're not. You're Lance McClain, knitter extraordinaire, the king of memes, and art god. You are definitely not stupid." 

"Thanks, big guy," he smiled softly. 

"No biggie," Hunk was all smiles, "Ya know, Pidge and I really missed you."

Lance's smile dropped, "Pidge..."

"They're going to... they were right," Lance groaned, "They told me that Lotor was messed up and I didn't... I didn't listen."

"Pidge is gonna... they're going to say they told me so," Lance's head fell back into his hands. 

Hunk rubbed his back, "C'mon, Pidge may be a gremlin sometime but they wouldn't do that, not about this." 

"Now, let's go," Hunk said, standing up, "Our break is over."

Lance nodded, somewhat in a daze as he followed Hunk back into Sal's, or in other words, his new life. 

Hopefully a better life.


	9. Not a Hiatus I swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh life

Kay, so guess who's laptop broke?? Mine. Guess who doesn't have a phone? Me. And guess who wrote the next chapter (that is mostly done) on a platform that is blocked by my school and therefore I can't use my school chromebook to update it? This dummy. No worries though, I should be getting my phone like this week, so the chapter (hopefully) will be up soon. If it really comes down to it, I can just rewrite the chapter here. There is good news though, all I have to do is finish up the chapter (which is hella long btw) before copy and pasting it here and everything will be dandy. Sorry for being a dummy.


	10. We Probably Shouldn't Have Done This, But Oh Well!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get wild when they decide to go out and celebrate. Keith and Shiro get to see a side of Lance they didn't know existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my bestest friend in the whole wide world saved my butt. She emailed me this chapter and I finished it. Now for warnings: drinking and general drunk shenanigans, oh and slightly more cursing. I am a fetus, so I've never drank before but google is my friend. If I made any mistakes PLEASE let me know so that I can fix them. Hope you enjoy XD.

The rest of his shift past in a blur, it was a mix of making small jokes with Hunk and navigating his way through the array of customers.

Lance hadn't worked at a diner since he was around fifteen, and even then he was just a dishwasher. He was slightly proud of himself, as he had little to no issues with the customers- they were all more than understanding.

Okay, that might have been a small white lie. The customers, for the most part, were fine but there had been a fair share of customers that looked down their nose at him.

After having several customers very blatantly imply that he was stupid, he was more than ready to be done with the day.

By the time five o' clock rolled around, he was about to drop.

Grabbing his hoodie from the storeroom in the back, he tugged it over his new uniform, a simple black tee with a name plaque... one that may or not have someone else's name on it.

To be fair, he just started and they had yet to order his tag so he was stuck being referred to as Dorothy. The only shirt that remotely fit him was the one from the previous waitress who had just moved away for college.

His feet were aching and he was dreading the walk back to the apartment.

Sighing, he pushed open the glass door before stepping out onto the sidewalk outside.

"Hey, Lance!" Hunk called, "Wait up!"

Lance turned around to see his estranged best friend running after him.

"Um, what's up?" he asked.

Hunk took a moment to catch his breath, his unexpected escapade clearly winding him, "I need your phone number."

He blinked in shock, "Oh ok."

"Here," Lance held out his phone.

As Hunk was busy entering his number and adding Lance's to number his own phone, he was chatting away.

"So Lance, it's been like what? A year?" Hunk began, "And I figured, we should definitely celebrate. You're my best friend, and I missed you a lot. And I know the emotionless gremlin did as well."

"Oh uh..." Lance said, "What do you mean by 'celebrate'?"

"I was thinking you, Pidge, and I could go out and get a few drinks," Hunk said without looking up from his phone, "Hit some clubs... you know, like old times?"

Lance suddenly realized just how much he missed that. He missed going out in his dirtiest outfit, grinding with strangers, and getting absolutely wasted. The pulse of the nightclubs and the allure of downing shots without a care of what kind of alcohol was it was. The thudding of the music and the sway of his hips.

He missed it all, the before, where he would spend hours making sure his eyeliner was on point. Trying on dozens of different outfits trying to decide which one made his butt look the best. The shot the entire group took so that they were already slightly juiced.

Or the after when he inevitably took off whatever shoes he had crammed his feet into- whether it be six-inch tall pumps or plain sandals. The adventure where they would find the nearest 24/hour diner and stay there laughing and talking until around four. And then the drunken relief when he finally made it home and the heavenly feel of his bed as he passed out- no matter what he was wearing (or even if he was wearing something).

He just missed being Lance, the overdramatic and flirty Cuban boy. He missed his friends who had always stood by him- even when he was trying to push them away.

He wanted that back.

"Uh, Lance..." Hunk waved his hand in front of his face, "You listening?"

 

Lance shook his head, returning his attention to the larger man before him, "I-I would like that."

Hunked grinned, "Then we're doing it!"

He nodded smiling, "Um so... I should head back soon."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," Hunk started, "Do you even have a ride?"

"Not really, it's a short walk," Lance shrugged, "They offered but..."

Lance drifted off, attempting to avert his gaze from Hunk.

"Well, I'm giving you a ride," Hunk ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

"Okay, you don't hav-"

He was cut off my Hunk's hard glare, "Okay."

The ride to the apartment was short, Hunk blasting some pop song and singing along softly. Lance distracted himself with studying the buildings that passed by his window.

Hunk pulled into the apartment parking for Keith and Shiro's- and Lance's now, he supposed.

Lance sat in the passenger, not completely wanting to leave. He wanted to stay and hang out with Hunk. He wanted this moment to last forever.

He looked up to Hunk with pleading eyes.

Hunk shook his head sadly, "I have to run errands, otherwise, I wouldn't let you out of this car."

Sighing, he pushed open his door and stepped out.

"Lance," Hunk called, "I forgot to mention, bring your roommates- I want to meet them."

He nodded before shutting the car door and heading up into the apartment complex.

Tentatively knocking, he waited for the door to be answered. To avoid just staring at the door, Lance studied the newspaper that was discarded outside the door.

Bending down to pick it up- planning on recycling it once he got inside.

Of course, it was at that moment that Keith opened the door. He stood right in front of Lance, and with Lance squatting down he was level with...

Lance's head shot up, already burning with embarrassment.

"Er uh, s-sorry," Lance stuttered out- pushing himself back up to his feet, "I was picking up the newspaper."

Keith's cheeks had a light dusting of scarlet blush, "It's fine."

He pushed the door open wider to allow room for Lance to enter.

Lance noted that Keith's longish hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and he had clipped back his bangs with some bobby pins. A sheen of sweat coated him and given that he was wearing some loose shorts and a muscle shirt Lance gathered that he was working out.

Pushing thoughts of a sweaty Keith far from his mind, Lance walked over to the recycling bin and took care of the newspaper.

"So, how was it?"

Lance turned around to see Keith leaning against the door frame, sipping a bottle of water.

"Oh uh... good," he murmured.

Keith nodded and made to return to where ever he was working out.

"Um actually," Lance's voice was slightly louder this time, and Keith raised an eyebrow- waiting for him to continue, "I, uh, ran into to an old friend. My best friend actually. He works there."

Keith gestured for him to go on, and Lance swallowed, trying to shake the fear that he was about to be yelled at.

"And he wanted to celebrate, um ya know, reconnecting. And so," Lance breathed, "He invited me out for some drinks."

The black haired male, smiled, "That's awesome, Lance!"

"He also... invited you and Shiro?" Lance continued.

"Oh wow, really?" Keith said half smiling.

Lance nodded jerkily.

"Hmmm... it'll have to be a time when Shiro and I are both of work," he mused, "But it sounds like fun."

Lance smiled, joy suddenly filling him.

"Okay!" he said slightly chirpy, "I'll text Hunk then."

Keith spit out his water, wide-eyed, "I'm sorry what now?"

Lance froze, he didn't know what exactly he did wrong but something was clearly not right.

"Um... I was gonna text Hunk," Lance said quietly, eying the ground, "Is that not okay? Should I not have said that?"

Shaking his head wildly, Keith spoke frantically, "Oh no, the name just took me by surprise."

Relief flooded Lance's chest, letting him breathe easily again, "Uh yeah, it's a nickname."

The conversation had stuttered to a stop, leaving an awkward silence heaving between them.

"Um so, I'm gonna get back to, ya know," Keith motioned to the living room.

"Yeah!" Lance nodded, "I, uh, have stuff to do too..."

Keith jerked his head up and down before disappearing into the other room.

Lance groaned at himself, letting his face fall into his hands, "Smooth, Lance."

Shaking his head, Lance tugged out his phone from his back pocket.

**83 Protons: So when were you thinking for clubbing?? Shiro n Keith are down**

Hunk's reply pinged his phone only a few seconds later.

**Hunkalicious: Sometime this weekend?**

"Hey, Keith..." Lance stuck his head into the living room, "Are you and Shiro off anytime soon?"

Keith paused his sit-up, "Uh, we have Saturday nights off."

Lance nodded, "Is it okay if we go out, then?"

"Sure," he said before switching to push-ups.

Leaning against the frame, he texted his response to Hunk.

**83 Protons: Saturday good?**

Once, Lance got the okay from Hunk, he headed into the guest room and spent the rest of the evening in the gues- his room.

What eventually made Lance look up from his phone- thank god for WiFi because he doesn't have data yet- was an acute smell... of bleach?

Curious, he slowly crept down the hall, and into the living room. From there, he could see Keith and Shiro in the kitchen.

Light music was playing, and Shiro was wiping down the counter. Keith was pouring bleach out into a bucket, presumably to mop the floor.

Lance was just about to return to the room when Keith pulled out a bottle and started twisting the cap.

Confused, Lance studied the bottle- trying to figure out what was in it.

Just as Keith began to tip the bottle to add some of the substance did it click.

Rubbing alcohol.

Before Lance even had a second to think, he was propelling himself forward yelling, "Stop!"

Startled, Keith almost dropped the bottle and Lance was more than happy that he had so many little siblings because if he didn't he would not have had fast enough reflexes to catch the bottle before it fell into the bleach.

Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, Lance twisted the cap back onto the bottle.

Bracing himself, he looked up to where Shiro and Keith just blankly stared at him.

"Um, what...?" Keith said, confused.

In an attempt to wet his suddenly dry throat Lance swallowed heavily, "Y-You can't add rubbing alcohol to bleach that'll create chloroform, which is highly toxic."

Shiro slowly turned his head to glare at Keith, "What the hell?!"

"I didn't know!" Keith defends, "And don't act like you do."

Furrowing his brows, Shiro turned to Lance, "Wait, how did you know that?"

"Oh um," Lance fidgeted, "I have my bachelors in chemical engineering?"

Shiro stared at Lance in shock, "Um, wow, really?"

Lance nodded hesitantly.

Keith raised his eyebrow, "Don't they make loads of money? You could own like a mansion."

He shrugged, "Not right now."

In response, Keith looked confused but didn't push it any further.

Looking around the house, Lance gathered that today was cleaning day, "Do you want me to help?"

Keith shrugged before tossing him a rag, which Lance proceeded to use to clean the stove. The simple repetitive movement clearing his thoughts.

Lance had never particularly minded cleaning, in fact, he was actually a stress cleaner. When someone or something pissed him off or he was freaking out over something, his natural reaction was to wash the dishes while simmering or furiously sweep the floor.

It was a simple motion, small circles, and it was mindless- his head empty for the first time in a long time.

It only took about an hour to clean the apartment, given the size.

Crashing into the guest bed, Lance sighs as he feels his muscles slowly relax and lets sleep overtake him.

The rest of the week past with little issue and before Lance knew it, Keith and Shiro and him were driving to the address Hunk sent them.

As they pulled into the apartment parking lot of the resident tech nerd, he felt the familiar twinge of anxiety pull at his heart.

It was an age-old tradition of getting ready at Pidge's, cluttering their bathroom counter with his products and applying eyeshadow to the reluctant space geek.

All the while, Hunk would be in the living room double checking that everything was in place. He was always a worry-wort and often their designated driver.

Attempting to force down his nervous thoughts, he opened the car door and led the way to their apartment.

Knocking quietly, he half wished the door would never open- that way he could just hide away in some small nest. Never have to worry about people ever again.

However, the door was wrenched open and a tiny human being that flung themselves at Lance, latching onto his body.

"Lance, you melted crayon," the small person insulted, "How dare you leave me on read?!"

Blinking down at the redhead he could only manage, "Wasn't that like... a year ago?"

Declinging themselves from Lance, they glared up at him, "That was the utmost disrespectful thing you could do to someone, leaving them on read."

Smiling softly, he ruffled their short messy hair, "Missed ya too."

Seemingly satisfied, Pidge nodded and turned to Lance's bewildered companions.

"Sup? I'm Pidge," they waved, "My pronouns are they/them, misgender me and I will end you."

"Uh... noted," Keith replied, however, Shiro stared at them in suspicion.

"Do I know you?" he finally asked.

Pidge quirked their head, "Maybe?"

Realization dawning on him, Shiro snapped his fingers, "Matt's your older brother right?"

Eyebrows drawn, Pidge nodded hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah he's a college buddy of mine," Shiro said with a smile, "He talked about you a lot."

Flushing with an uncharacteristic blush, Pidge waved him off and simply said, "Small world."

Leading them inside, Pidge pointed to their couch where Shiro and Keith sat.

"Lance, what the hell are you wearing?" Pidge remarked once they entered.

Glancing down at his worn t-shirt and basketball shorts, he shrugged, "I don't have... all that many clothes?"

Rolling their eyes, Pidge gestured to their room, "You are a slob and always left your crap everywhere. Half my closet is your shit."

Eyes widening, he choked out, "C-Can I?"

Turning towards their guests, Pidge waved him off to the room.

Hesitantly entering the gremlin's messy room, he toed his way to their walk-in closet.

True to their word, hangars upon hangars of Lance's clothes filled half of the rack. Even quite a few pairs of his shoes were chaotically flung on the floor.

Biting his lip, Lance thumbed through the hangars, thoughts running through his head.

He definitely shouldn't dress too sexy, the lasting imprint of Lotor's disapproval of anything slightly flattering on him still present. It still terrified him, what Lotor might say or think about his attire.

But Lance wanted to be himself again, he wanted to wear trashy clothes without a care in the world. Lance wanted to apply mascara and knew that he rocked it. He just wanted to be the old him.

Sighing, he tried to find an outfit that wasn't too scandalous and as he spyed one of many of his old makeup bags he realized it may take a while.

 

  
-

 

  
Drumming his fingers on his thighs, Keith anxiously waited for Lance to come out and save him from his misery.

It's no secret that the resident emo was not too big of a fan of large social gatherings. He definitely loved people and affection, but with so many people he often felt overwhelmed.

Shiro grabbed ahold of his restless fingers, and stared into his eyes, sending him a message of comfort.

Nodding slightly, he took a deep breath and sent a grateful smile to his boyfriend.

Without Shiro, Keith would definitely not be as well off as he was. Not in a financial way (although that too) but Shiro was definitely his emotional support.

The door was slammed open as a larger Polynesian looking man rushed in, carrying a plastic bag filled with food.

"I swear Pidge, have you ever heard of grocery shopping?" he admonished as he set the bags on to the kitchen counter and began unloading.

"Don't criticize my lifestyle!" Pidge shot back, setting down their phone.

"If your 'lifestyle' involves starving, I will do more than criticize," he replied.

Scoffing and rolling their eyes, Pidge sauntered over to Hunk.

"Stop being the mom friend, goddammit."

Hunk scoffed, "Maybe if you actually took care of yourself..."

Just as they looked like they were about to start getting into an argument, Lance emerged from the room.

He was wearing a dark blue cropped sweater paired with some leather high waisted shorts. Complimenting his shirt, he adorned a pair of navy blue thigh high socks. On his feet were some simple black booties.

He had applied winged eyeliner and a nude lipstick.

"There's the Lance I know," Hunked grinned, "Rocking his clothes as always."

Smiling softly, Lance looked down at the floor blushing.

Keith was stuck gaping. Lance had never been unpleasant to look at. In fact, he always looked attractive. But never in the few days that he'd known him had he ever imagined Lance in this.

Looking up at Shiro, he could tell that the older male was having a similar reaction.

Pouting slightly, Lance turned to Pidge, "Rover slobbered all over my Louis Vuitton heels."

Rolling their eyes and scoffing, "You high maintenance fruit roll up, shouldn't have left them here for over a year, then."

Lance made a face before walking over to wear Pidge was pulling out a bottle of vodka in the kitchen.

Hunk waved to Shiro and him, "C'mon, shot time."

Shrugging, Keith walked over to where the rest of them were, Shiro following close behind.

Pidge poured out four shots and handed them off to everyone but Hunk.

Catching Keith's confused look, Hunk informed him, "I'm DD."

Nodding, Keith downed the shot with along with everyone else.

"Let's do this!" Pidge said slamming their glass onto the counter.

 

  
-

 

  
The line outside the club was infuriatingly long and wrapped around the corner. And the last thing Keith wanted to do is to wait for over an hour, for some overrated club.

Groaning, Pidge crossed their arms, "You have got to be kidding me!"

Peering around Hunk, Lance spoke up, "I think I know that one bouncer? Ernesto? Ernesto!"

The bouncer, who could easily pass for seven foot, glanced their way- his glare mostly hidden behind dark black sunglasses. Seeing Lance, his face softened and he waved the group to him.

"Lance!" he smiled, "It's been forever!"

Nodding shyly, "Yeah, it really has."

Turning his attention to the group, "I take it you're going clubbing," he spoke with a knowing smile.

Flushing, Lance bobbed his head up and down.

"Well then I get you guys in," Ernesto held open the door and waved them through.

"Oh, thank you so much!" Lance choked out, before following the rest of them in.

"How did you know the bouncer?" Hunk said once they got inside.

Shrugging he replied with, "We dated for like... a month?"

Keith raised his eyebrows at that statement, he had never really pictured how Lance was before that creep, Lotor.

It suddenly occurred to him, that Lotor changed him. That Lance was completely different now and used to be... healthy.

Snapping him out of his thoughts, Shiro tugged them over to the bar where Pidge and Lance were already ordering a round of shots.

The music was loud and drumming, and there was a throng of people dancing. The dancers were an array of people who were dancing with many different partners. Genders played no role.

Lance and Pidge easily downed theirs before turning to him and Shiro and waiting for them to drink theirs.

Keith looked up at Shiro as he spoke, "Keith and I have work tomorrow morning, and we'd rather not have a hangover."

Shiro's adorable smile was more than enough to convince Lance and Pidge that it was okay if they were the only ones who got drunk.

Shrugging, Pidge grabbed Keith's shot and handing it to Lance before stealing Shiro's.

Linking arms, they chugged the drinks down, before giggling a little as they attempted to detangle their arms.

Shaking his head, Lance turned to Pidge and started to chat when a drink was placed in front of him.

"Oh, um, I didn't order this?" Lance informed the bartender.

The bartender, a tall blonde chuckled before saying, "The girl at the other end of the bar bought it for you."

Lance blushed and waved politely to the girl who was casting him lusting eyes.

He removed the lemon before sipping at the Long Island Iced Tea.

Pidge glared at him, and then stole the drink and downed nearly half of it.

Glaring right back, he swiftly took it back and chugged the rest of it while flipping them off.

Keith nearly choked on his spit when he saw how different Lance was acting. The way he was speaking and the little things he was doing (ie: flipping someone off!!) was a complete 180 from how the Lance he knew.

It actually looked as though... he was having fun.

The realization sent shock waves reverberating through him. In a flash, all of the week's past events ran through him. Sure, Keith knew that Lance was a survivor. Because of that ass Lotor. But Keith had never really thought that Lance was... different. That Lance wasn't terrified at the drop of the hat.

Watching as Lance loudly laugh, snorting and hitting his knees, Keith realized how much he wanted Lance to be like this all the time. He wanted him to be happy.

"Let's go dance!" Lance exclaimed, pulling Pidge and Hunk to their feet, before leaving he turned to him and Shiro, "Would you lovely people, care to join us?"

"Oh, uh... no," Keith blinked, caught off guard, "Maybe later."

Shrugging, Lance sauntered off onto the mass of the grinding crowd, Pidge and Hunk following.

Keith turned to his boyfriend and leaned his head on his muscled shoulder. Reacting to the touch, Shiro looked down and smiled sweetly.

"What's up babe?" Shiro said, having to talk loudly over the music.

He shook his head, and instead kissed him.

Raising an eyebrow, Shiro kissed him back. His smooth lips sliding against his own, creating enticing friction.

Keith's hand found its way to Shiro's arm, and Shiro cupped his cheeks in his hands. The cool metal of his prosthetic arm sending tingles down his spine.

As Shiro slipped his tongue into his mouth, Keith pressed himself into his toned body. He could feel all of Shiro's firm abs against his chest, and the feeling brought a moan to his mouth.

Pushing away and heavily panting Keith looked up at Shiro, his lips ruby red. Sighing, he melted into Shiro's chest, just holding on to him.

They stayed like that for a while, Shiro occasionally singing along to whatever song that was playing, the vibrations rumbling through his chest.

"Awww," Lance crowed, "You guys are adorable!"

Pulling away from Shiro's chest, Keith whipped around to see a very drunk Lance.

Lance was sitting at the bar, waiting for the bartender. His face had a light dusting of red, presumably from the energetic dancing he had just partaken in. He had a goofy smile on his face as he rested his cheek on his hand.

When the bartend came back with several shots, Lance informed them, "We're doing body shots, and there's no getting out of it."

Pidge and Hunk joined them, and soon Pidge was lying down on the bar.

Hunk licked up the salt from their wrist before quickly taking the shot out of their belly button, hard feet to do given the space nerd was giggling like mad. After that, Hunk bit into the lime that Pidge held in their hand.

Lance cheered, clapping wildly, and Pidge did the same to Hunk.

Turning to Keith and Shiro, he smiled before asking, "Who's next?"

Shiro put his hands up, "We really don't drink all that much."

Lance shook his head, "Hunk doesn't either, but this is the body shot. It is a tradition! We literally always do it when we go clubbing. So, like you have to, it's the law!"

His drunken logic was oddly endearing and Keith easily gave in, sighing.

"Fine, one shot," he grumbled.

Lance threw his hands up and smiled, "Okay, get up on the table... shot time."

"Oh, um," Keith sputtered as he just realized the implications of the situation.

Catching his drift, Lance asked Shiro, "If Keith's is cool with it, can I take a shot off your boyfriend?"

Shiro smiled and waved, "Fine with me."

Laughing, Lance ordered Keith onto the table before he pushed up Keith's shirt. He placed the shot, salt, and lime.

Pidge counted down, "1... 2... 3!"

Swiftly, Lance lapped up the salt from Keith's neck and then downed the shot by throwing his head back. Lance then bit into the lime that Keith had lying slightly lower on his abdomen.

Keith was caught off guard by the feel of Lance's smooth tongue on his neck, and then he snatched the shot glass off of his chest. What really set him off, though, was the sensation of Lance biting into the juicy lime on his abs.

Shuddering, Keith was slightly relieved and slightly saddened when Lance pulled off of him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he pushed thoughts of Lance out of his head, 'You have a boyfriend!' Keith definitely should not have been having thoughts about Lance.

Shiro patted his shoulder, yanking him out of his head. Keith sat up and slid off the table.

Laughing, Lance hopped up and leaned back.

As Shiro and Keith watched, Hunk set up two shots on Lance. One shot glass rested on his lower abdomen and the second was on his chest. Two piles of salt were placed towards the center of his stomach, with the limes between the salt piles.

Shiro and Keith looked at each other before Shiro shrugged and licked the salt. He took the shot that was on Lance's chest, before biting into the lime.

Shiro nudged him forward for his turn, and hesitantly, Keith lapped up the salt on Lance's abdomen.

The overwhelming taste of salt filled his tongue before he downed the tequila. The strong taste burning its way down his throat, he quickly bit into the lime before he pulled away, grimacing.

Shaking his head as if he was trying to physically remove the taste of the shot from his tongue, Keith sat back down on the bar stool.

Lance giggled before pulling his cropped sweater down a bit. He hopped off the bar and swung his hips to the music.

"I love this song!" Lance exclaimed, attempting to pull Shiro and Keith to the dance floor.

"Lance, you've literally said that about every song that's played," Hunk reasoned.

"Because I like all of the songs!" Lance responded causing Hunk to shake his head.

Lance proceeded to physically drag Keith and Shiro with him onto the dance floor. From there, he began to dance in front of them in an attempt to get them to dance as well. He sang along to the song, switching his gaze in between them.

"Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote. Tengo que bailar contigo hoy," the words seemed to float out of Lance's mouth and wrap around the two men opposite him.

Keith had absolutely no clue what the words meant but by the tone of Lance's voice and the beat of the music, it was definitely a romance song.

Clearly losing himself in the moment, Lance's eyes closed as he leaned his head back swinging his hips to the beat.

Keith was distracted by the serene expression on his face. His freckles seemed to glow against his skin, the scattering of them placed like constellations. Long and dark eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the eyeliner he applied enhancing his eyes. Lance had plump full lips, that was naturally a mix between a dusty rose and tan color. His jawline was sharp and angular as his head was thrown back, revealing his soft neck.

Getting caught up in the soft yet precise movements of Lance's hips, he shamelessly stared.

Lance clearly knew what he was doing, his hips bopping in an almost impossible way. He carried the air of someone who's been dancing for years.

He suddenly opened his eyes and smiled, "You're dancing."

Keith realized that he was. Unconsciously, he had been mirroring Lance's moves. Nowhere near as smooth as Lance but he was.

A few other songs played, and Lance decided to head back to the bar, resting on the seat. Shiro and Keith followed, sitting down next to him.

Shiro started up a conversation about some kind of tv show, as Keith pulled out his phone scrolling through his social media.

Keith looked up when yet another drink was placed in front of Lance.

Lance, smirking, waved to the slightly older male who sat at the far end of the bar.

The drink was a mix of orange and red, and even from two seats away, Keith could smell the alcohol. Suck, Bang, Blow the bartender had informed him. ‘An interesting name’ Keith thought.

Lance sipped at the drink, shaking his head, "Well shit, this is strong."

Shiro admonished him for the language, and in return, Lance flashed a puppy dog smile- easily melting Shiro's heart.

Their conversation continued as Lance slowly downed the beverage.

The time past in a blur, when Hunk and Pidge joined them and they broke off into different conversations.

Pidge and Shiro were talking about embarrassing stories regarding Matt, whilst Keith, Hunk, and Lance were discussing their living situation.

“Oh my god, Hunk, you don’t even understand!” Lance wildly exclaimed, “Keith tried to kill us!”

Keith rolled his eyes in response, “Did not.”

Crossing his arms, “Did too,” Lance huffed.

Scoffing, Keith glared at the inebriated Cuban in front of him, “I’m not psycho, I wouldn’t try to kill you guys!”

Lance wildly flung his hands around with every word he spoke, “You tried to mix rubbing alcohol and bleach!”

“It’s called being efficient!” Keith retorted.

“No, it’s called homicide!” Lance snapped his fingers.

Keith chuckled and shook his head at his very drunk companion.

Hunk giggled along quietly.

Just then, the lights started to flash and the music’s volume was lowered drastically. “Last call!” crackled over the speakers.

Lance winced at the grating noises before heading over to the bar and ordering a regular beer.

Hunk graciously paid the bartender, as Lance was too out of it to even pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

As he sipped on his drink, Hunk started to gather the group so that they could leave.

Once they were out the doors, Lance was already leaning against the wall and tugging off his boots.

“My feet hurt,” he whined.

Rolling his eyes at Lance’s antics, Hunk turned to the others before saying, “Is it cool with you guys if we head over to Ruby’s so we can sober up?”

Shrugging and general nodding ensued as the group mutually agreed.

“Oh hell yes, we gon’ see my gurl,” Lance slurred, hanging off of Hunk.

Lance shifted his head to face Keith and Shiro, “You guys don’t know ‘er, but she is my bestie. You’re gonna love her.”

Keith sent Shiro an amused look before Shiro replied, “She sounds great, Lance.”

With Lance and Pidge heavily leaning against Hunk, the group somehow managed to walk over to the nearby diner.

Lance quite literally kicked open the door to the very empty 80’s styled restaurant.

“Allura!” Lance called.

A confused waitress emerged from behind the counter, “Lance?”

Her british accent rang through the small diner easily and once she caught sight of him she broke out into a grin before engulfing him in a huge bear hug.

“It’s been ages!” she crooned, burying her face in his shoulder.

Allura’s long and curly white hair was a vibrant shock against her dark, ebony skin. She had a naturally beautiful face, that made her appear to be the personification of a goddess.

She pulled away, her roller skates sliding backwards.

Her cheek-splitting smile fell into a frown when she saw the clearly wasted male before her.

“And of course, you’re drunk,” she tutted, shaking her head in disapproval.

Lance scoffed, “I am so not drunk, missy.”

Snorting, Hunk waltzed around the duo and headed over to a table, “Tell that to the what? Five rounds of shots.”

He continued on as he settled into a booth, Pidge following along, “Not to mention the many drinks that people bought you.”

Chuckling, Shiro followed suit with Keith in tow.

Sticking his tongue out at them, Lance settled in next to Keith and Shiro with Hunk and Pidge across from them.

Allura pulled out a notepad and asked them what they wanted.

Reciting off orders one by one, and browsing through the menus was a hassle that took a good five minutes or so.

As they waited for their food, Pidge and Lance went off on a serious debate.

“Okay, no, I’m telling you King Kong would win in a fight,” Pidge stressed.

“I hear you, but Godzilla is the obvious victor,” Lance declared.

“King Kong has determination and actually has a semblance of how to fight, Godzilla is just an overgrown lizard.”

“Godzilla has you beat in over all size, he can just, like, stomp on you.”

“But King Kong can climb and therefore has the upper hand,” they snapped.

“Let me repeat, he can stomp you,” Lance held his hand up.

Whining, Pidge turned to Keith, “What do you think?!”

Blinking from everyone suddenly whirling to face him he stuttered out a “Oh, um…”

Pidge and Lance eagerly leaned forward, studying him.

“Mothman!” Keith blurted.

Lance frowned, whilst Pidge’s eyes lit up.

“I like your thinking!” Pidge said before returning to the conversation with Lance.

Sighing in relief as he sagged back against the booth, Keith leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

He definitely was not expecting to suddenly being whipped into the center of attention. And Keith could function in the spotlight, he was more than capable of handling some attention. However, when he was suddenly put on the spot like that, he wasn’t the best.

 

Allura appeared balancing several platters on her arms and with a practiced ease she distributed the food amongst the group.

Lance was quietly slurping on his milkshake listening intently to a long-winded rant Pidge was unleashing.

“And then this random person, whom I did not know at all,” they complained, “Came up to me, and had the nerve to tell me that they/them wasn’t a real pronoun.”

They then slammed their hands down on the table bracing themselves, “So you know what I did?”  
Lance shook his head, eyes blown wide.

“I hacked her facebook and sent out a max text to all of her colleagues. And it read ‘Please excuse me for not showing up to work next week, I have to remove the stick that’s lodged up my ass.”

Breaking out into a snorting and hysterical laughing mess, Lance hugged his sides.

Caught off guard, Keith was immediately ensnared by the tan Cuban next to him.

The way his face completely glowed when he laughed was breathtaking. His eyes were squeezed shut as if the force of his laugh made it impossible for him to see. When he laughed his dimples were suddenly visible, making it impossible to look away.

However, Keith was violently torn away when Pidge kicked his shin and sent him a knowing look.

Looking sheepish, he tried to blow the whole thing over by pulling out his phone and blankly staring at his home screen.

Pidge snorted at his obvious attempt to appear innocent.

“Oh my god, you Yoonbum look-alike,” Lance whined, “Put your phone down.”

Choking, Pidge managed to force out a “You didn’t!”

Keith was confused, and it must of appeared on his face because Hunk took pity on him.

“Just a character from this Korean web comic,” he smiled, “You kinda look like him.”

Lance froze and looked up to Pidge, “Does that make Shiro Sangwoo?!”

Pidge slowly turned to study Shiro’s face, “Oh my freaking- he has the same haircut!”

The second that Pidge and Lance’s gaze met each other they broke out into hysterical laughter.

As Pidge and Lance were chortling like hyenas, Keith and Shiro shared a very confused look.

Hunk softly chuckled, shaking his head.

Making a note to google them later, Keith finished his pancakes.

As the group slowly began to finish over their respective meals, they started to get ready to leave.

It was a quick walk back over to the parking lot where they left the cars, despite the fact that Lance was complaining about how cold his feet were.

Lance climbed into the back of Shiro’s car not even bothering with the seat belt and instead laid across the entirety of the back seat.

Shaking his head, Keith settled into the passenger seat as Shiro started up the car.

Lance was asleep before they even left the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally no clue how to do italics or bold on here, I'm still figuring that stuff out. So sorry?? Hope you enjoyed tho.


	11. Everyone is panicking and Lance is hungover AF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is positively hungover and comes face to face with some serious things. 
> 
> Whilst Shiro and Keith have a very important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this took so long to get out. I actually did post it this morning but then like I guess it didn’t?? Idk but here it is now. I’ve been trying to get this fic out all week but my Gmail just like deleted the outline Remember Flowers emailed me?? I tried emailing them but they’re taking a break so I doubt they saw it. Anyway, from here on out I’m just going to try and just remember what I can from the outline and write out the general gist. Anywho, thank you guys for being so understanding for the long wait and I hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> Triggers: vomiting and a panic attack.

‘So this is what hell feels like’ was the first thought that crossed Lance’s mind as he suffered through possibly the world’s worst hangover. 

It was simple really, when one does consume the amount of alcohol he very clearly did last night they do not feel very good. 

To Lance, this was an understatement. 

It didn’t exactly hit him immediately. He had slept so hard that he didn’t even realize he was awake. 

But when he actually came to he was practically slammed by a dump truck. 

It’s bad, it’s so bad. The slight light peeking through the window curtains. Bad. The horrible feeling of his parched throat. Worse. The jackhammer that was currently mimicking a woodpecker in his cranium. Horrible. His back that felt as though it had been thrown through a blender. Awful. His stomach that felt as though at any moment might reacquaint Lance with last night’s drinks. Terrible. But perhaps the worst, was the dreadful sound of some nauseating pop song resonating through the apartment. 

In an attempt to somehow save himself from this horrible misery, Lance pulled the blanket over his head, burrowing into the warmth of his blanket. 

And it did work some. Albeit the blanket did little to muffle the crappy music, it did help with the light and his back. Maybe he could have stayed like this for the day and sleep the night off. 

His tummy did not agree with that idea. 

Within seconds he lurched himself onto his feet, stumbling a bit as the pillows and blankets fell to the floor. 

Squinting his eyes, as he was hit full frontal with the light he managed to dash to the bathroom before emptying his stomach’s contents into the toilet. 

Sitting with his knees up as he rested his forehead against the cool surface of the toilet, he practically sobbed at the wretched feeling. 

This was crappy. 

“Come on, let’s get you up,” came Shiro’s soothing voice from behind Lance. 

Shaking his head blindly, he once again retched into the toilet. 

He was slightly shocked when he felt Shiro’s warm hand rub circles on his back. In response, he managed a weak thumbs up over his shoulder. 

Once he felt like there was nothing more possible to throw up, he began to gather himself off the floor. 

“Sorry,” came from Lance’s scratchy throat. 

Shiro shook his head and instead helped him to his feet, “Last night was pretty crazy, I guess.” 

Last night. 

Oh yeah, there was a reason why he felt like absolute shit. 

Everything that happened last night flew through his mind like a whirlwind, knocking the breath out of him. 

Last night. 

Breaking away from Shiro, be blew past Keith who had been standing at the bathroom door as he could only form one thought. 

He 

Couldn’t

Breathe 

He shut the door harshly as he wildly pushed his weight against the door, sinking to the floor as he gasped loudly. 

He shouldn’t of done that last night. Everything was so wrong. He drank so much. He always acted too much. Said too much. Just was too much. Shiro and Keith must think he was insane. They had to hate him. He practically got in between their relationship. They must have been so uncomfortable. 

Why did he like the way Shiro smiled or Keith brooded? He shouldn’t be having these thoughts. They were a couple. And certainly shouldn’t be liking them both. He wanted to make that emo boy smile and that Cruella DeVille look alike laugh. He wanted to be with them. And that was wrong. 

Everything was so wrong. 

Lance was at this point hysterically crying, his tummy sending acute pain all throughout his body. He was just trying to breathe but felt like he was stuck under muddy water. 

The stress on his stomach made him start to heave again, he managed to make it over to the small garbage pail in the corner of the room and gag, bile burning his throat. 

Wasn’t he pathetic? 

-

Shiro nervously paced in the living room, the sound of Lance crying still echoing in his ears. Lance was hurting. And he couldn’t help. 

Keith tracked Shiro’s movement across the carpet with his eyes, as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“We just have to him some space, okay?” Keith tried to console. 

Shiro paused for a second, “I know that, but it doesn’t make me any less worried,” and he continued wearing a rut into the carpet. 

Crossing over to Shiro, Keith put his arms around his boyfriend in an attempt to get him to stand still, “Just stop for a minute, he’ll come out when he’s ready.” 

Sighing but nodding, Shiro tucked his head into the crook of Keith’s neck. 

They stood like that for a few minutes, just hugging. 

“We have to talk about this,” Shiro said after a minute, “I know you feel it too.” 

Groaning, Keith sat down on their sofa and looked up at Shiro expectantly. 

“I, uh, gathered that we both have feelings for him…” Shiro started. 

Keith immediately sat his head in his hands and let out an ungodly whine, “We’re horrible people…” 

“No, no, no,” Shiro sat on his knees in front of Keith, “We’re human.” 

“No, we’re humans in a relationship. What are we gonna do? Break up and both try and date him first?” Keith shook his head, “I feel dirty just saying that.” 

“Honey, no,” Shiro chuckled slightly, “We’re not going to break up.”   
Keith looked up at Shiro, “Then what do we just… forget about Lance?”

Shiro shook his head again, “We could both date him… like at the same time.” 

“What like we’re poly?” Keith said with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I don’t know, are we?” Shiro asked. 

Keith thought about it for a minute, “I’ve never really thought about it… but I think that I’m open to it.”

Shiro nodded, “I think I am too.” 

“But what about Lance? He might not be,” Keith questioned. 

Shrugging, Shiro said, “Then he’s not. But we can at least try.” 

“We should give it some time, I don’t think Lance is even remotely ready for another relationship right not,” said Keith. 

“I agree, but when he seems… ready, we should pursue him,” thinking over his words Shiro continued, “Carefully, of course, make sure he knows the entire time that he can say no.” 

“Wait like… courting him?” Keith asked, chuckling. 

Grinning Shiro said, “Maybe.”

Shiro made his way onto the couch next to Keith and slung his arm around Keith. 

With Keith in Shiro’s embrace they both fell asleep like that. 

-

Much later, Lance emerged from the bedroom and snuck a glass of water from the kitchen. 

He paused for a moment when he saw Shiro and Keith, sleeping. 

‘That’s what a healthy relationship is like… I want that.’ he thought before continuing into the room and trying to sleep.


	12. Well This Totally Isn't Awkward...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more than awkward and a MUCH needed conversation finally happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I'm in a college prep program kinda thingy for poor kids like a me, and I like live on campus for a few weeks over the summer. I did actually get my laptop back, however, it's like still messed up. I wrote the large majority of this on my school chromebook- but ya know, school ended so I don't have my chromebook on me. I wrote the last 1 to 2 thousand words on the desk monitors at this program when I could and it's finally done! There's probably so many mistakes but at least it's done. Only one more chapter left (for this exact fic *eyebrows wiggle*)! This chappie does have some blood and also loads more cursing because... well you'll see. Enjoy!

Lance, at first didn’t even realize he was awake. It was that feeling when you’re suddenly aware that your eyes or open, but have no recollection of ever opening them. 

Sluggish, he didn’t bother moving- just lazily staring at the ceiling. He felt drained, like some weird tapeworm you could get in a third world country (or a public bathroom) had leached itself onto him and sucked out all his energy. 

He was more than content to lie in the soft and warm bed, pretending that none of his problems existed. In fact, he even snuggled deeper- nosing into the blankets. 

All was blissful, sun streaming gently into the room through the slightly cracked curtains, the air was still. Everything was just so blissful. 

Which, of course, is why he nearly fell out of bed in surprise when his phone alarm started blaring directly into his ears. As he desperately clawed to turn off the alarm, he ripped the earphones out. 

Throwing his phone down, he tried to reclaim the peace he had just a few moments again. Once it became apparent no such thing would happen, he shoved himself out of bed groaning. 

He made his way across the room and out to the bathroom door, pausing to grab his towel off the back of his door. 

As he waited for the shower to heat up, he checked out his face in the mirror, grimacing. He hadn’t been keeping up with his skin routine- moisturizer, cleanser, a few face creams, as well as a toner, and once a week he would treat himself to a face mask. He used to pride himself on his daily beauty regimen, hating (yet loving) the mass amount of creams and lotions that would eventually cover his bathroom counter even after numerous attempts at decluttering. It had always been something he loved. 

Lotor had been so nitpicky about his skin routine. Even when Lance’s face was smooth as a baby bottoms and no evidence anywhere of even the most miniscule amount of acne- he still had to do more. He ran up the wall in emptying his wallet to pay for concealer and foundation. Lotor would freak if his old acne scars showed- or heaven forbid, a red spot. 

In fact, just under his left ear was a scar he had acquired from stupidly trying to jump off a tree and onto a trampoline. A branch had scraped his jaw, and even though it was barely noticeable, at all times he had to hide it away with makeup. 

Lotor was obsessed with perfection. His apartment, his car, his job, and even his boyfriend had to be perfect. 

To make matters worse, Lance had made himself a collection of facial creams. Anything under the sun from moisturizers to cleansers to rejuvenating creams. And they definitely cost a pretty penny, some costing him hundreds of dollars. And what does Lotor do? But keep all of his shit. Literally all of his products, gone. What totalled to probably thousands of dollars, down the drain. 

Deciding to focus on the latter part, he let himself simmer on the shit Lotor did. How dare he steal his $330 Revision Skincare Nectifirm?! 

He angrily washed his body, eyebrows drawn. Furiously, he shampooed and conditioned his hair thinking of nothing of the many ways he wished to run Lotor over with a car. 

Because right now- anger was good. Anger was a way of getting better, no longer being under Lotor’s thumb. 

And Lance was more than pissed. 

 

 

-

 

“Hey, my name is Lance, I’ll be your server today,” he began with a cheery smile, “Can I start you off with some drinks?” 

As he politely waited for the family of four to decide on drinks, he couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy. The way their mom cooed at the little boy or chastised the younger girl for being on her phone. 

So motherly. 

He copied down their drinks before heading to the kitchen and then back out to another table.

The whirl of chaos that came with the dinner rush, brought him back to his childhood. With his many siblings, and primos, tias and tios, his house had always been pure chaos. 

Like many families, it wasn’t just his Mamá and siblings, oh no. It was his aunts and uncles and their kids. And those who didn’t live in the house- lived next door or right around the corner. He almost never had to go very far to see his family- excluding the ones who still lived back in Cuba. 

His childhood was always loud and chaotic, whether by the neverending singing or the younger ones screeching at each other over some toy, there was always noise.

Which is why, entering Shiro and Keith’s tidy and quiet apartment always brought a sense of homesickness to him. 

He had always been a family-man, the very definition of Mama’s boy. It was no secret to his friends that he wanted a big family too, one day he wanted a huge litter of children- and they could play with his siblings kids and his friend’s kids. 

He’d always dreamed of his future, imagining a warm home and a happy family. He wanted romance, he wanted to be wooed courted. He wanted a real love store. 

But now he can’t even see himself getting out of bed sometimes. 

Shaking his head, ‘not today depressing thoughts,’ he left his shoes near the door before throwing his stuff down on his bead. 

He lay on the bed, content with the silence for once- before similar to this morning being interrupted. 

“We made dinner,” Shiro said, peaking his head in, “You like yellow rice and chicken?” 

Lance stood up, nodding his head. He hadn’t realized but he hadn’t exactly eaten anything besides some toast since the night he practically got blackout drunk. Damn, he was hungry. 

He walked with Shiro, desperately trying to ignore the awkward tension between them- he had been avoiding him and Keith. 

Sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen, scarfing down the hot bowl of chicken and rice, with Keith and Shiro sitting across from him. Possibly one of the tensest ten minutes of his life. 

“Thank you!” he said in a rush, standing up and grabbing the bowl to walk to the sink. 

“Uh, no problem,” replied Shiro, “Just glad you liked it.” 

Nodding his head, he speed washed the bowl, hoping to get the hell out of the kitchen. 

Lance hated awkward situations with a passion. He would rather throw his body off a bridge to a river full of glass than sit through an awkward dinner. He hated the anxiety that built up from the quiet, or the boredom from the lack of conversation. 

So, sharing dinner with the two people (who were in a relationship!) he sort of had a thing for as well as lived with was his actual version of hell.

But, as proved time and time again, Lance was clumsy as fuck. 

So what does he do? Only slip on the water that he splashed onto the floor in his haste to wash his bowl and bash his head off the kitchen counter.

“Oh shit fuck bitch mother mierda,” he rang out, his hands going to his lips that were already gushing blood. 

His tooth had literally tore through his upper lip, as well as his chin that was cut up on the counter edge. 

Keith rushed over as Shiro ran to get the first aid kit. 

“Shit, Lance, are you okay?” Keith asked. 

“No, I’m not fucking okay!” Lance snapped, “My lip is just-- mierda-- it hurts.” 

He attempted to console Lance, hesitantly placing his hand on Lance’s arm. 

‘What the hell do you even do in this situation?!’ Keith thought angrily. 

At this point, blood covered Lance’s lower half of his face, as well with his neck and shirt. His top lip was already swollen, and his chin ached so badly. Lance was nearly in shock, how did he manage to get himself into this one. Oh right, he was a dumbass. 

Keith, deciding Shiro was taking to long trying to find their kit under the sink, ripped off his shirt and used it to put pressure on his mouth. 

And now, Lance could only be gay. Well there’s the love story he asked for. He, the protagonist, hurt himself and one of his love interests is using their shirt to stunt the bleeding- he was pretty sure that it even happened in Twilight. 

Shiro, like the blessing he was, entered the room- saving Lance from being too gay and fucking everything up. 

Keith moved out of the way so Shiro could use a cloth and wipe off the excess blood, before using gauze to stop the bleeding. 

Eventually, Lance stood up- holding the gauze himself and sat himself on the counter. Shiro used that moment to try and clean the cuts with some peroxide. 

Which, subsequently led to Lance cussing Shiro out for suddenly attacking him with the peroxide. 

“You fucking bitch ass...” speaking hurt too much for Lance to even finish the insult. 

Shiro rolled his eyes before commenting, “Language.” 

Lance was in pain, and pissed off so it wasn’t really his fault when he decided to be the whitty bitch he knew himself to be, “English and Spanish, puta.” 

Keith chuckled in the background. 

Shiro grumbled as he began wiping at his chin. He applied a bandaid to the chin, and gave him a new piece of gauze. 

“Hopefully that will stop the bleeding,” Shiro worried, chewing on his lip. 

Lance shrugged, “I’ll be fine.” 

His face was practically on fire, because what better way to avoid drawing attention to yourself than bashing your face on the kitchen counter? 

“I’m uh,” Lance started, “Gonna go change. But, um thanks.”

And with that, Lance escaped to the room. 

Keith looked at Shiro with a suspicious face, “Something is off with him.”

Shiro nodded, “Do you think he’s trying to avoid us?” 

Groaning, Keith sat himself on the counter, pulling Shiro to him. 

“I don’t understand why, though!” he complained. “We haven’t done anything, right?”

“I don’t know if it’s us,” Shiro said shaking his head, “It could be him trying to adjust after Lotor. We should probably give him some space.” 

Disagreeing, Keith replied, “I really don’t think it’s that. I mean, he was okay just the other day. And I know sometimes people react differently, but… it just doesn’t feel like that to me.” 

Shiro shrugged, “We can waste time worrying about it, but nothing we say is really going to change anything.”

“I know you’re right but…” Keith trailed off, at a lost for words. 

“I get what you mean, it’s okay.” 

Keith wanted to punch something. Wanted to revert to his old habits. Oh boy, he wanted to fight someone. Maybe he could find Lotor, that sounded like a good idea. 

“Lance sure does have a mouth on him, eh?” Shiro said chuckling, “Have to say, I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Keith laughed as well, “Yeah he had some… interesting vocabulary.” 

Shaking his head, Keith quoted Lance, “Bitch mother.”

Shiro and him erupted into hysterical laughter. Keith was laughing so hard his side hurt, all whilst Shiro wiped tears from his eyes. 

The heavy atmosphere lifted somewhat, they headed off to bed together. 

 

\- 

 

True to his word, Shiro tried his best to respect Lance’s obvious want for space. The day flew into two into three into a week into two weeks. 

They all fell into a sort of rhythm. Shiro woke up the earliest for his job at the apple store, he actually was up somewhere between four and five am, he liked to go for jogs before work. The fact that Shiro was a gym rat, became obvious to Lance within days of meeting him. Keith liked sleep, and often was still asleep when Lance left for his job at Sal’s. 

It was easy, Lance never saw them in the mornings- besides Sundays. Of course there were Wednesdays, on those days Keith had an online class at 10, and could be seen with his sleepy bed head sitting in the living room wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. 

This of course, did not help the fact that Lance was very bi and Keith was very pretty. And lord have mercy on his soul when Shiro slept in on the weekends and left his room wearing nothing but those gray sweatpants. Lance had literally choked on his ramen that Sunday morning. 

Because, even though Shiro gave off the impression of being a cute nerdy gentleman. Oh ho, that flawless six-pack and the tattoos that littered his abdomen gave off an entirely new aura. Shiro was daddy as fuck. 

And Keith was not much better, though he rarely walked around shirtless, there were a few times when he left the shower, and walked to his and Shiro’s bedroom. While Keith wasn’t as buff as Shiro, he definitely had muscle definition. 

These factors did nothing to help Lance’s resolve. He was trying his best to not be a homewrecker, let alone the fact that he didn’t even know what he wanted after everything with Lotor. 

So, like the smart boy Lance is, he decided to call in back-up. 

“Um, so is it okay if Hunk and Pidge come over?” Lance asked, nervously entering the living room where Shiro and Keith played Mario Kart. 

Shiro blinked, having not talked to Lance since yesterday, “Oh uh, it’s fine with me.” 

Keith simply shrugged, too busy defeating Shiro to give a vocal response. 

Lance left the living room and sent a text, receiving a response in just a few seconds. 

 

Loverboy Lance to “The OG GC” 

 

Loverboy Lance: ‘you hoes wanna come over??’ 

Pidget: ‘Make it worth my while.’ 

Hunkaboo: ‘Already omw’ 

Loverboy Lance: ‘ill make my home made quesadillas’ 

Pidget: ‘What’s the address?”

 

Chuckling softly, Lance sent the address before asking Shiro and Keith if they wanted quesadillas as well. 

Getting a definite yes, he made his way to the kitchen. He popped in some earbuds, and began listening to some sweet Daddy Yankee, as he filled up the room with delicious spices. 

He took out some chicken from the freezer, seasoned it up a bit and but that on the stove with some oil. Cutting up the peppers and onions, he put that on another pan. 

He let his hips lightly bop to the sound of ‘Gasolina’ being taken back to his childhood and cooking for his younger siblings. Say what you will, but this song was the hallmark of hispanic culture. If you were living in America and came from any sort of Hispanic background whether Ecuadorian or Mexican- even if you were just friends with someone Hispanic, then you knew this song. Think he’s wrong? Turn on any Spanish radio station, without a doubt this song will play. 

As the song faded into Beyonce, then to Shakira, to Britney Spears, to Bomba Estéreo, his hips eventually were more than just bopping, and were making full rolls and sways. 

One of his personal favorites, because of the message, ‘Soy Yo’ played and could no longer resist the need to sing along. 

“Me fui contra la corriente y también me perdí,” he sang softly. He has somehow managed to avoid singing the first line but failed once it went on. 

And so he didn’t stop himself, standing at the stove frying some chicken and veggies, dancing and singing. 

Which is why he didn’t notice Keith freeze at the entrance as he went to refill his glass of water. And Keith had no idea how to react. Because there was Lance, the very attractive Lance, swaying his hips in ways that should be illegal, singing some Spanish song and he hit the notes way too well. Especially cooking the food, he looked so domestic. Keith was suddenly hit again by how much he liked Lance. 

Lance seemed so innocent, singing and dancing without a care in the world, just lost in the music. 

Once he deemed the chicken and peppers ready, he turned off the stove and started putting shredded cheese on the quesadillas. 

Lance suddenly realized that he didn’t know how Shiro and Keith liked their quesadillas, so he pulled out his headphones and turned around. 

He froze, caught off guard, at Keith who stood in the entryway looking like a tomato, “Eh um… how do you like your quesadillas?” 

Keith, who was quick to snap himself out of his head, immediately said, “Chicken and peppers, no onions.” 

“Do you know how Shiro likes his?” Lance asked after nodding. 

“Oh, um chicken, peppers, onions, and sour cream,” Keith answered.

“Okay,” Lance awkwardly replied, grabbing sour cream out of the fridge. 

Keith took that as his cue to leave, and rejoined Shiro on the couch, “Why is life so cruel to me?” 

Shiro just raised his eyebrows. 

“Who does Lance have to be so damn hot?!” Keith whined, “He can dance. Shiro, he can dance!” 

Patting his boyfriend’s shoulder comfortingly, “If it makes you feel better you’re not alone. I saw Lance right when he woke up this morning. He looked adorable in that oversize sweater and shorts, especially with his glasses.” 

Keith sat up without warning, “He has glasses?!”

Rolling his eyes, “You would know this if you got up a decent time.” 

Dramatically, Keith laid back on the couch, “I’ll never see him with his glasses.” 

Electing to ignore his boyfriend’s dramatics, he started a new game of Mario Kart.

 

-

 

The quesadillas still had a few minutes left when there was a knock at the door, to which Lance opened and greeted Hunk and Pidge. 

“Hey, hoe,” opened Pidge, “Feed me.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, before hugging his best friend, “See, Hunk actually cares about me as a person.” 

“Your point? I’m just here for the food,” Pidge shot back. 

“You wound me,” he replied. 

A beep from the oven cut off Pidge’s reply, and Lance rushed over to the kitchen to take out the tray. 

“So, what happened to your face?” Hunk asked. 

While the cuts had mostly healed, and he didn’t have much of a bruise anymore, there was still a definite red mark on his chin. 

Lance sighed, “Well like the talented individual I am, I bashed it off the counter.” 

Pidge laughed, and Hunk chuckled a bit. Lance began dividing up the quesadillas, setting them out on different paper plates. 

Shiro and Keith shuffled in, joining them at the island. 

Pidge immediately started slobbering all over the quesadilla, well versed in the magic of Lance’s homemade food.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at the gremlin’s antics as Keith bit down and practically moaned. 

“Lord Jesus in Heaven, this is beautiful,” Pidge crooned. 

“I thought you were Atheist,” Lance said, chuckling. 

Shaking their head in disbelief, no matter how many times they ate Lance’s food they never failed to fall in love, “Your food could turn convert anyone to Christianity.” 

Blush covering his cheeks, Lance replied, “Thanks, Gremlin.” 

“I ain’t even mad about my nickname,” Pidge said between bites, “I’m too busy having a foodgasm.” 

Hunk groaned, “Please don’t.” 

Lance rolled his eyes before digging into his own dinner. 

 

-

 

With Pidge and Hunk there to ease the situation, there was no longer an awkward tone glossed over the hangout. 

Conversation freely flowed, and they easily conversed well into the night. 

It was in the a.m. when they all agreed to call it a night, leaving Lance, Shiro, and Keith alone. Totally not awkward, nope not one bit. 

Shiro was in the shower while Lance cleaned up what was left of the dinner. Keith sat at the island, lazily scrolling through his phone. 

Lance was more than eager to head back to his room and hideaway. So he hurriedly finished the dishes, this time managing not to hurt himself. 

As soon as the last dish was put back into the cabinet, Lance was already headed back for his room. However, Keith immediately jumped up and interrupted him. 

Suddenly overcome with fear, Lance instantly was sure he did something incredibly wrong and was terrified of what Keith would do. 

“Wha-what’d I do?” he stuttered out. 

Realizing he freaked Lance out, Keith tried his best to appear calm and the very opposite of angry, “Nothing! Not really.” 

“It’s just that..” Keith began, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to stay. 

Over that past few weeks, Keith had grown more and more certain. Lance was avoiding him, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to give Lance space, after all the relationship he just escaped from was horribly abusive. However, he didn’t want Lance to think that they didn’t care about him. 

He was in a tough spot, torn between his feelings for Lance - wanting to make him happy and trying to give Lance the space and freedom he wanted. 

Logically, he knew he should step back from the situation and think out the best solution possible. 

However, Keith didn’t think- he acted. 

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Keith stated. 

Lance’s gaze dropped to the floor, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
“Bullshit,” Keith replied. 

Lance’s head shot back up, “What?” 

“I said ‘bullshit,’ because that’s bullshit,” Keith started, “You haven’t talked to us or even been around us for weeks. And I want to know why.” 

“Shiro said we should give you space, but fuck it,” he continued, “Because I can’t do that. We need to sit down and talk this shit out.I don’t know why you suddenly stopped being friends with us, or what the fuck ever it was. But it’s bullshit.” 

“Why do you even care?” Lance asked. 

“What the hell do you mean, ‘why do you care?’” Keith parroted him, “I care because I like you. A whole fucking lot.”

Shock colored Lance’s face, his perfect lips open and slack jawed. 

Keith felt the blood leave his face when he realized what he said… shit.

“B-but… you and Shiro?!” Lance cried out. 

Keith shook his head, “No, I like you both. And so does Shiro. We want to date you… like at the same time. And each other.” 

“I’m explaining this really badly, but it’s true,” Keith groaned. 

Lance tried to sift through the heavy clouds of confusion that cluttered his brain, “But Lotor… I don’t even know if I could date anyone… like ever again.”

“It’s your decision, obviously,” Keith said, “And we’ll totally support you no matter what. And if you don’t think you’re ready- it’s totally valid. But you’re not used up or broken goods. You’re Lance. You’re high maintenance, and you tell bad jokes, and you’re a loud drunk. But… goddammit you’re a fucking angel.” 

“I don’t think you realize how much I fucking hate your ex, not because he ‘ruined you’ or some bullshit. But because he made you think that,” Keith finished. 

Lance had no clue what to even reply. What the hell does someone say to that? 

“Just… think it over, okay?” Keith whispered, “Because we really want to love you.” 

With that, Keith went to his bedroom and wait for Shiro to join him.   
Lance must have stayed in that hallway for at least ten minutes. His thoughts going too fast to even try and move his feet. He was trying to wrap his head around what the hell just fucking happened. And even long after he finally made his way back to his room and into his bed he still wasn’t entirely sure. 

So what the hell does he do now?!


	13. Trying Couldn't Hurt Too Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance thinks things out, and comes to a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FIGURED OUT ITALICS BE PROUD OF ME!!

Thinking was an enigma. 

 

On one hand, all Lance could do was think. Like constant drumming in his head, what he did wrong, what he should have done, what people thought of him. These thoughts relentlessly ate away at him. Sometimes he felt like these endless thoughts and comments of his own mind would one day eat away his heart and leave him hollow and dead. 

 

However, sometimes it was so difficult for him to think of things. Like what to do with his life or fucking taxes. 

 

And that’s where he was at now. Minus the taxes part. 

 

His head was running a million miles an hour, alive and thrumming with his anxieties and insecurities. He certainly didn’t deserve Shiro and Keith. Yet he wanted them, to the point that he felt selfish. Because he shouldn’t make them have to deal with him. 

 

It wasn’t fair to them to try and date him and have a relationship when his mind could only think of the things that he was doing wrong. Lance knew well and truly that at this moment in time, he was fucked up. 

 

Whilst all he could do was think, he also couldn’t. He couldn’t think of what to do. He couldn’t think of a way to make it work for everyone. How could he want to date them, want to love them and be happy when he would only drag them down?

 

In a sick, twisted way he almost missed Lotor. With Lotor it was easier, he knew that Lotor put up with him, how many times had Lotor reminded him that he was the only one that would? 

 

He felt guilty just thinking about him. He shouldn’t miss Lotor. But he did. 

 

Lance wanted to cry and scream and just run. Run away. Away from all his problems, away from everyone who knew him. 

 

It couldn’t be that hard to start a farm somewhere in the midwest? He could have some chickens. Wear a cowboy hat. 

 

Too bad that the dry air would royally fuck up his skin. And dry skin is not cute. 

 

So what better thing to do but sweat out everything? 

 

Lance had always been an active kid. Growing up in a poor household, it was kind of ensured. So what if they couldn’t afford cable or internet, it didn’t cost money to go to the park. 

 

He had a football or a basketball to play with outside. And a small army of siblings who would play with. 

 

God he missed his family. 

 

He missed their support. They were always there for him when he was down. 

 

When he jumped off his cousin’s garage and broke his leg and was on crutches for about two months, his twin brother and sister were there. Even though it sucked that he couldn’t compete for that swim season, Leandro and Lupe were there with his favorite season of America’s Next Top Model on CD. 

 

He must have drove them insane with the amount of reality tv he binged and forced them along with him, and yet they never complained. 

 

He missed working out with them. His twins and him were always athletic. Leo was quarterback on the football team, Lulu was captain of the volleyball team, and Lance held the school record for 800m freestyle. 

 

And even though they excelled in their favorite sports, they were well rounded. They loved hanging out at the nearby park and play mini basketball games. Or Lulu and him did ballet together. Leo had refused to dance with them, complaining that he wasn’t even able to touch his toes. 

 

But even then, all the three triplets were in track. Lulu and Leo were also in cross country together. 

 

Point is, Lance was always active. He used to hit the gym at least two to three times a week, especially with his twins. 

 

Occasionally he would accompany his older brother and sister, Anita and Mateo to the gym. However, they were crazy into crossfit and he always left in pain. 

 

He had been slacking, it had to of been months since he last worked out and he had long since lost his muscle definition. He never had super wicked defined abs but they were definitely there. Now you couldn’t even see them. 

 

And even though the reason he loved working out wasn’t for his appearance, but rather the feeling of all conscious thought disappearing when he soared under water or the beat of a basketball hitting off of the pavement. It still hurt that his lack of muscle tone was a physical reminder that he had lost the motivation or will to work out. 

 

So, he decided to use his overactive mind as a reason to run. 

 

Which is how he found himself wearing an old pair of basketball shorts from Keith and a wife beater tank from Shiro. All he had were ratty gym shoes which would have to do. 

 

So putting his earbuds in and blasting some J Balvin song, he was off. 

 

It didn’t take very long for his thoughts to melt away to nothing but the pounding off his feet off of the concrete sidewalk. 

 

To be honest, it did take him a good ten minutes to get into the groove. It had been quite a while since the last time he ran. He kept getting distracted by random pedestrians or clinically insane drivers. Ever wanted to fear for your life? Try going for a jog in California during morning work rush. 

 

His speed and stamina was nothing like the way it was just a few years ago, but there was still some muscle memory. 

 

Taking a break, he let himself relax on a park bench and sip some water. Sweat drenched him, leaving his back and thighs feeling sticky. He was glad that he wasn’t some “no homo” dude bro type and had no qualms wearing a thong to avoid a sweat clogged ass. That shit wasn’t pleasant. 

 

It was a lot easier now, to let himself drown away. Not to be cliche, but his surroundings were serene. A gentle breeze caressed the trees and tickled the grass. Birds flitted about, swooping from tree to tree. A few other people were in the park. 

 

A small family were sitting in the grass not to far from him. A clearly newlywed couple played with their small toddler. 

 

Lance watched the mom play, over exaggerating her facial expressions, for the little boy. Which of course sent the boy into fits of giggles. 

 

The father watched fondly, resting his chin on his wife’s shoulder. The boy was showing his dad a monster he made out of his PB&J sandwich. 

 

Their perfect little scene was so incredibly innocent and pure. Untouched by the evils of this world. He missed when he was like that. 

 

He missed when he was that innocent little boy, although he also had three older siblings as well as his two twins. So there wasn’t all too much one on one time, given his mother had six kids and was a newly single mom. 

 

But even through Lance’s father dipping before the triplets were even born, and raising six kids (until his little siblings came to be) by herself, Mamá always made sure that him and all his siblings knew how loved and appreciated they were. 

 

To be honest, Lance was always a mama’s boy. It wasn’t uncommon to find him and his mom snuggled on the couch, with whatever siblings decided to join, watching a movie. 

 

His mother was probably the strongest person he knew. Hell, she raised ten kids virtually on her own and didn’t take anyone’s shit. Mamá McClain was a badass and knew how to get shit done. 

 

Him and his siblings had never gone without, they might have come close and toed the line. But there was always clothes on their backs and food in their tummies. And given that there were ten kids, that was quite a feat. Not too long after Lance and his twins were born, his Abuelita moved in and she helped out quite a lot. 

 

Lance’s Abuelo had passed before he was born, but Abuelita would tell stories about him when him and Lulu would sit around and knit with her. His older brother Mateo would sometimes join in. 

 

Mateo always loved to knit but was, quite frankly, shit at it. 

 

He once gave Lance a sock that had three holes in it. And not a pair of socks, no. One singular sock… with three openings. 

 

Lance hung it up anyway… mainly to tease Mateo, but still. 

 

He realized that some tears had slipped out, and he hastily wiped them away. God he missed his clinically insane family. It had been at least two years, and they must have grown. 

 

When he left his oldest sibling, Mariana has just had her twins. A little boy and girl. Named Josefina and Jorge. They had turned two about a month ago, June 6th. 

 

He couldn’t even imagine what they looked like, they had to be so big. He had missed so much. He must have missed their first steps, their first words, their first everything. 

 

Mateo also had a little girl, Nińa, a bit over three years before he left. Watching his hyper masculine and super macho brother worry over his daring daughter teeter fearlessly over the edge of the bed was incredibly hilarious. 

 

Nińa was a brave one, which didn’t help his older brother’s anxiety at all. 

 

Lance began laughing through his tears, his family was so amazing. They were loving and supportive and completely batshit. And he wouldn’t have them any other way. 

As he watched the happy couple, he could practically taste the love radiating off of them. Everything they did was so domestic, from the casual hands around each other’s waists to the ease and comfort the felt around each other. 

 

It was hard but he remembered that feeling of domesticity from before Lotor. Whether with his friends or his past flings- which never really panned out to anything. But he remembered the feeling of being so comfortable with himself and others. 

 

Like hanging out with his friends and siblings. Or lounging on his couch by himself, in nothing but underwear and binging netflix while stuffing his mouth. 

 

He had recently became too worried about what he did and what others did, and he knew it was due to Lotor. 

 

Not to lie, he had suffered with anxiety for a long while- being diagnosed at age 11. However, he was prescribed medicine that helped a lot, combined with the fact that it was mild general anxiety. Anxiety was a part of his life, and it make things difficult, but he managed. He had his coping skills and was doing well. 

 

But then Lotor came crashing into his life and fucked him up really badly. Completely threw off his mental health. 

 

It had taken him a while but Lance realized it then. Fuck it. 

 

So what if he wasn’t “whole” or that he had a shitty past relationship, he had two amazing guys in his life that apparently really liked him. 

 

No, he wasn’t completely okay- what white Disney channel movie shit is that? He goes for a run in the park is magically fixed. 

 

He still had loads of worries, and wasn’t completely sure that they actually liked him. But he was willing to try. 

 

After all, he is Lance McClain. A romantic, cheesy flirt, and total drama queen. And he wanted to be himself again. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“Hey so like remember- wait of course you remember that was last night- when you said you guys liked me?” Lance rambled at the sleep Keith. 

 

By some weird miracle, Keith had been on his way back to his bedroom from a bathroom trip. Keith was never up before noon, and was only awake at 8 to take a piss. 

 

“Mmhm,” came Keith’s raspy reply. 

 

“Well so I was up all night, and I decided to go for a run…” Lance quickly checked his cell phone, “Three hours ago, but anyway, I’ve thought it over and yes.” 

 

“Mmhm,” was Keith’s response. 

 

“Aaand you’re not awake,” Lance sighed. 

 

“Mmhm.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Lance decided to leave the mullet-man in peace and just picked up a sharpie off the counter, and scrawled out a note on the back of Keith’s arm before gently leading him back to his room. 

 

With Keith back in his room and Shiro at work, Lance felt ready to completely crash. 

 

If only he didn’t have work in an hour. 

 

So like the boy his mama raised, he showered and got ready for Sal’s. 

  
  


-

  
  


God, he felt like he was back in college. Pulling all nighters and still going to work the next day. Maria had tutted over him, chastising him for his lack of sleep. 

 

It was already past 5, and he hadn’t eaten all day. His plans for when he got back home were torn between eating until he felt physically sick or going into a deep hibernation. 

 

The walk home was brisk, and he grabbed an apple on the way to his room before passing the fuck out. 

 

And boy was it a deep sleep. The sleep where you helplessly drool and feels physically heavy- but in a good way. 

 

Lance felt like he was on cloud nine, he was well-rested and full of energy, and was in a good mood. Well this definitely didn’t occur often. 

 

His phone’s clock read around 10, meaning he had a good five hour nap. 

 

He groaned, his eyes burning from his contacts- needing to be removed. He sleepily popped them out and slid his glasses on. 

 

Despite the dull pain he experienced because of his lack of personal care, he was in too good of a mood to be bothered. 

 

It was later at night- added with the fact that Shiro and Keith really loved their air conditioning, it was a bit chilly. 

 

So he slipped on a dark hoodie, not bothering to put his shorts back on- just sticking with his boxers. 

 

His bare feet ambled across the cool floor, the cold seeping into his bones. He had never been a fan of the cold, growing up in South Florida. 

 

Given that AC would’ve drove their electric bill up the wall, the McClain family owned only on AC, which was stationed in their living room. On extremely hot days, his Ma would force all of the siblings to stay in the room and watch movies on VHS. 

 

Majority of the time, the AC wasn’t even ran because everyone in the McClain house were all outside people anyway. 

 

Point being, Lance was used to the heat. And this was cold as balls. 

 

He stuffed his hands deeper into his hoodie as he entered the kitchen, intent on getting himself a bowl of cereal. 

 

And that’s how Keith found him, 10 o'clock at night, no pants, and eating a bowl of Captain Crunch. 

 

He froze, his blue eyes blown wide and his spoon stuck halfway to his mouth as Keith also stood frozen in the doorway. 

 

“Um… hi,” Lance tried, sure Keith had seen the note he left on his hand. 

 

Before he could say anything more, Keith charged into the room and placed his lips on Lance’s. At first, Lance stiffened up- completely taken off guard, but quickly felt the tension leave his body as he melted into the kiss. 

His hands made his way to string into Keith’s, admittedly not too bad-looking, mullet. Keith had a strong grip on the front of his hoodie with his left hand, whilst his right raised to softly cup Lance’s cheek. 

 

All that existed for a minute was Lance and Keith, he could only think of Keith’s slightly chapped lips against his own. The cold but soothing hand on his cheek, the dominant weight of Lance being held in place by his hoodie- as if he wanted to ever end this kiss. 

 

What was more, was that it felt safe. He could feel the reassuring pressure of Keith’s ribs against his side. 

 

Deciding on turning around so he wasn’t half facing the island, he slid off the chair and shifted both Keith and him around- letting Keith push him against the island. 

 

Feeling the cold and hard edge on his back and the warm and soft body against his front was a juxtaposition he didn’t think he would ever forget. 

 

Lance was content to stay like this for a while, maybe till he dropped dead from dehydration or a heart attack from the way Keith’s lips moved against his. Whichever happened first. 

 

However they were interrupted by a purposeful cough, and pulled away to see Shiro smirking in amusement in the doorway. 

 

Keith pulled away, as Shiro made his way over to join the duo. 

 

Shiro engulfed them both in a hug, and Lance nuzzled his head into the crook of Shiro’s neck, whilst Keith was pushed against Lance’s side. 

 

“I finally got to see his glasses, Shiro,” Keith voiced, muffled. 

 

Shiro laughed loudly before pressing a kiss to Lance’s forehead. 

 

As Lance stood there, covered on all sides in warmth and happiness he caught sight of Keith’s hand. And couldn’t help but smile. 

  
  
  


_ No promises, but I’ll try.  _

_            -Lance  _

 

He knew that here, in Shiro’s arms with Keith by his side was good. He was safe. He was happy. 

 

He was home. 

  
  
  
  


-

  
  
  


For now… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end omg I'm so happy. And yeah, I just updated a few days ago. Guess who's a top of their shit? Me boo. Anywho, as you might of guessed this is not the very end. Five Dollars is being made into a series and there's more to come. And don't worry, this ending isn't as dramatic or sad as you think. You'll get it later. Oh and before I forget, if you want update info and sneak peaks follow @actualtrashfp on twitter. See ya guys soon.


	14. Next Work!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an update, just an important message.

Heyo!! It’s ya bitch. The first chapter of the next work is up!! Hope y’all enjoy <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback and constructive criticism in the comments! And kudos. Don't forget kudos, it's a dying writer's fuel. 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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